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COMPLETE EDITION. 



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FROM THE LIBRARY OF 

REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. 

BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 

THE LIBRARY OF 

PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 



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PEOPLE'S EDITION. 



MOORE'S 



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IRISH MELODIES. 



WITH 



BY 

SIR JOHN STEVENSON, Mus. Doc. 

AND 

SIR HENRY BISHOP. 

Kcto Coition. 

DUBLIN: 

M. H. GILL & SON, 50 UPPER SACKVILLE STKEET. 

1882. 



POtMTBD .\ U. II. GILL AND SON, 50 UPrKK 3ACKVJLLK-8TT.EKT, DUBLIN. 



NOTICE TO FIRST EDITION. 



THE PUBLISHERS take the opportunity of the celebration of the 
Centenary of our great Irish Poet to produce an edition of his u IRISH 
MELODIES," with Pianoforte accompaniments, at so low a price as to 
permit them to hope that these exquisite productions of genius may 
have a very wide circulation amongst all classes, and tkat thus they 
may become even more popular than they have hitherto been. 

This edition is complete ; not a single one of the " IRISH 
"Melodies" has been emitted. 

May 28, 1879. 



CONTENTS. 



After the battle 

Alone in crowds to wander on 

And doth not a meeting like this . 

As a beam o'er the face of the waters 

As slow our ship her foamy track . 

As vanquished Erin wept beside 

At the mid hour of night . 

Avenging and bright fall the swift sword 

Before the battle 

.Believe me, if all those endearing, &c. 
By that lake, whose gloomy shore . 
By the Feal's wave benighted 
By the hope within us springing 

Come o'er the sea, maiden, with me 
Come, rest in this bosom 
Come, send round the wine 

Dear harp of my country • 

Desmond's song 

Drink to her who long 

Down in the valley, come meet me to-night 

Drink of this cup . . . 

Echo . 

Erin ! the tear and the smile in thine eyes 

Eveleen's bower ... 

Fairest ! put on awhile 
Farewell ! but whenever you welcome, &c. 
Fill the bumper fair . . 

Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour . 

Forget not the field where they perished 
From this hour the pledge is given . 

Go where glory waits thee . 

Has sorrow thy young days shaded ? 
Bere we dwell in holiest bowers 
How dear to me the hour . 
How oft has the benshee cried 
How sweet the answer Echo makes 



PAGE PAOB 


80 


111 omens ..... 


06 


244 


I'd mourn the hopes that leave me . 


118 


220 


I saw from the beach . . 


162 


28 


I saw thy form in youthful prime . 


96 


15G 


I've a secret to tell thee, but hush ! not here 


246 


228 


I wish I was by that dim lake . 


234 


126 


If thou'lt be mine ; the treasures of air 


196 


104 


In the morning of life . . 


163 


68 


In yonder valley there dwelt, alone 


226 


52 


It is not the tear at this moment shed • 


88 


100 


Lay his sword by his side . . . 


144 


230 
68 


Lesbia has a beaming eye . 


94 


Let Erin remember the days of old « 


44 


138 


Like the bright lamp that lay, &c. 


54 


111 


Love and the novice . » • 


106 


48 


My gentle harp, once more I waken 


192 


124 


My Nora Creina . 


94 


; 230 






. 60 


Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet, &c. 


102 


200 


Ne'er ask the hour — what is it to us 


172 


. 178 


Night closed around the conqueror's way . 


80 


. 182 


No, not more welcome the fairy numbers . 


122 


12 
. 42 


Of all the fair months that round the sun . 


180 


Oh ! Arranmore, loved Arranmore ! . 


252 


. 218 


Oh ! banquet not in those shining bowers . 


184 


134 


Oh ! blame not the bard 


62 


. 154 


Oh ! breathe not his name . 


22 


8 


Oh ! could we do with this world of ours 


140 


. 168 


Oh ! doubt me not — the season, &c. 


136 


. 20S 


Oh ! for the swords of former time 


198 


. 20 


Oh 1 had wo some bright little isle . 


132 


Oh ! haste, and leave this sacred isle 


32 


. 142 


Oh ! the days are gone, when beauty bright 


78 


. 106 


Oh ! the shamrock . ... 


114 


. 34 


Oh ! the sight entrancing 


204 


. 13 


Oh ! think not my spirits are always as light 


56 


. 182 


Oh 1 'tis sweet to think 


82 



CONTENTS. 



Oh ! weep for the hour 

Oh ! where's the slave so lowly 

Oh, ye dead ! whom we know, &c. . 

One bumper at parting ! 

On music • 

Quick ! we have but a second • 

Remember the glories, &c. . 

Remember thee ! yes, while there's life, &c 

Rich and rare were the gems she wore 

Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark . 

Shall the harp then be silent ? 

She is far from the land 

She sung of love, while o'er her lyre 

Silence is in our festal halls 

Silent, Moyle, be the roar of thy waters 

Sing — sing — music was given 

Sing, sweet harp, oh, sing to me 

Song of the battle-eve 

Song of O'Donohue's mistress 

Song of Innisfail 

St. Senanus and the lady 

Strike Jthe gay harp, &c. . . 

Sublime was the warning" . 

Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well 

Take back the virgin page 

The dawning of morn 

The dream of those days 

Thee, thee, only thee 

The fortune-teller . 

The harp that onco through Tara's halls 

The Irish peasant to his mistress 

The legacy .... 

The meeting of the waters . 

The minstrel boy to the war is gone 

The mountain sprite 

The night-dance 

The origin of the harp 

The parallel 



PAGE 

42 
152 
202 

128 
86 

212 

10 

190 
26 

174 
18G 

93 
23G 
260 

46 
223 
210 
240 
180 
248 

32 
250 

50 
207 

36 

188 

214 

188 

200 

24 

84 

38 

30 

116 

226 

260 

176 



PAGE 

The song of Fionnuala . . . 4$ 

The song of O'Ruark, Prince of Breffui . 130 

The time I've lost in wooing . . 129 

The valley lay smiling before me . . 130 

The wandering bard . . . 242 

The wine-cup is circling in Almhin's hall . 258 

The young May moon is beaming, love . 112 

There are sounds of mirth, Sec. . . 254 

They came from a land beyond the sea • 248 

They know not my heart, &c. . . 232 

They may rail at this life . . . 170 

This life is all chequered with pleasures, &c. 108 

Though dark are our sorrows, &c. . . 90 

Though humble the banquet, &c. . . 238 

Though the last glimpse of Erin, &c. 1- . 18 

Through Erin's Isle to sport awhile . 114 

Through grief and through danger, &c. . 84 

'Tis believed that this harp, &c. . . 59 

'Tis gone, and for ever, Sec. . . 150 

'Tis the last rose of summer . . 14 

To ladies' eyes around, boy . . . 160 

To-morrow, comrade, we , . 240 

'Twas one of those dreams, &c. . . 210 

War song ..... 
We may roam through this world, &c 

Weep on, weep on ! your horn- is past • 
What life like that of the bard can be 
What the bee is to the flowret 
When cold in the earth, Sec. 
When daylight was yet sleeping, &c. 
When first I met thee warm and young 
When he who adores thee . • . 
When in death I shall calm recline 
When through life unblest we rove 
Whene'er I see those smiling eye's 
While gazing on the moon's light 
While history's mu?e, Sec. . 
Wreathe the howl with liow'rs of soul 

id one of Ziori ! if closely resembling 

You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride . 



MOORE'S 
IRISH MELODIES 



FLY NOT YET. 



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gins to bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon ! 



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Oh! stay, — oh! stay, — Joy so sel-dom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that, 




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II. 

Fly not yet; the fount that play'd 

In times of old through Amnion's shade,* 

Though icy cold hy day it ran, 

Yet still, like souls of mirth, began 

To burn when night was near. 
And thus should woman's heart and looks 
At noon be cold as winter brooks, 
Nor kindle till the night, returning, 
Brings their genial hour for burning. 

Oh ! stay, — oh ! stay, — 
When did morning ever break, 
And find such beaming eyes awake 

As those that sparkle here? 



• Solia Fori*, near the Temple of Ammon. 



JO 



WAR SONG. 

REMEMBER THE GLORIES OF BRIEN THE BRAVE. 



Bold. 



AIR-MOLLY MACALrrN. 






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Biu-en the brave,* Tho' the days of the he - ro are o'er; 



Tho 1 lost to Mo-no-nia** and 



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• Brim Boromb*. tho groat Monarch of Ireland, who was killed at tho battle of Clontarf, in the beginning of the 
Uth century, after having defeated tho DaQOi In twenty-five engagements. M Minister. *** The Palace of Urieu 



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n. 

Mononia! when Nature embellish'*! the tint 

Of thy fields, and thy mountains to fair, 
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print 

The footstep of slavery there? 
No, Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign, 

Go, toll our invaders, the Danes, 
That 't is sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrir 

Than to sleep but a moment in chains ! 



m. 

Forget not our wounded companions,* who stood 

In the day of distress by our side ; 
While tho moss of the valley grew red with their blood. 

They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died ! 
Tho sun, that now blesses our arms with his light, 

Baw them fall upon Oeeorj'a plain:— 
Oli I Let bin not blush, when he leaves us to-night, 

To find that they fell there in vain ! 



* This alludes to an interesting ci enmstanre related of tho Dal pile, the favourite tr<v>ps of Prion, when they 
were interrupted, in their rotum from the btttle of Clontai£ by Fitxpatrick, Prince of Oeeort. The wounded men 
entreated that they might be allowed to light with the reef. "!<<t ttak$S,'' they laid, "he stv,'k in the groun 
uuffer each of us, txtd. to and supported by our of tin M ttaki I, tc br placid in Ins rank by the side « ' 
''Between seven and eight hundred wounded men," adds O'Halloren, "pale, emaci it i. 1 in this manner, 

appeared mixed with the foremost of the troops!— Never was such another sight exhibited." — HuiO*l 
Look XII. Chap. I. 



12 



ERIN, THE TEAR AND THE SMILE IN THINE EYES. 



Slow. 



AIE-AILEEN AROON. 
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E - kin, the tear and the smile in thine eyes 
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Erin! thy silent tear never shall cease, 
Erin ! thy languid smile ne'er shall increase, 

Till, like the rainbow's light, 

Thy various tints unite, 

And form in Heaven's sight 
One arch of peace! 



HOW OFT HAS THE BENSIIEE CRIED. 



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II. 

We're fall'n upon gloomy days; 
Star after star decays: 
Kv'ry bright name, that shed 
Light o'er the land, is fled. 
Dark falls the tear of him who mouriieth 
Lost joy or hope, that ne'er returneth; 
But brightly flows the tear 
Wept o'er the hero's bier! 



m. 

Oh! quench'd are our beacon-lights, 
Thou, of the hundred fights! 
Thou, on whose burning tongue 
Truth, peace, and Areeoon, hung I 

Both mute — but, long as Valour shincth, 
Or Mercy's soul at war ropineth, 
So long shall Erin's pride 
Tell how they lived and died! 



14 



'T IS TflS LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. 



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soon may I follow, When friendships decay, And from love's shining circle The goms 
hearts lie wither'd, And foud ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world 1 



drop away ! 
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16 



WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE.* 

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WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE. 



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With thee were the dreams of my earliest love, 

Every thought of my reason was thiue:— 
In my lu.-t huinlile praj'r to the Spirit ui 

Thy name shall ho mingled with mine! 
Oh ! bless'd are the lovers and friends who shall live 

The days of thy glory to see; 
Bvt the next dearest blessing that Ilearon can give, 

Is the pride of thus dying for thee! 



18 



THOUGH THE LAST GLIMPSE OF ERIN. 

Slow. ATR-COITLIN. 




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n. 

To the gloom of some desert, or cold rocky 6hore, 
Where the eye of the stranger can haunt us no more, 
I will fly with my Coulin, and think the rough wind 
Less rude than the foes we leave frowning hehind: — 

III. 

And I'll gaze on thy gold hair, as graceful it wreathes, 
And hang o'er thy soft harp, as wildly it breathes ; 
Nor dread that the cold-hearted Saxon will tear 
One chord from that harp, or one lock from that hair/ 



• "In the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Henry VIII. an Act was made respecting the habits and dress 
in general of the Irish, whereby all persons were restrained from being shorn or shaven above the ears, or from 
wearing Glibbes, or Coulins (long locks), on their heads, or hair on the upper lip, called Gommeal. On tbia oc- 
casion a Song was written by one of our bards , in which an Irish virgin is made to give the preference to her 
dear Coulin (or the youth with the flowing locks), to all strangers (by which the English were meant), or those 
who wore their habits. Of this song the Air alone has reached us, and is universally admired."— Walkke's 
Historical Memoirs of Ikisii Bards, page 134. — Mr. Walkku iuformB us also, that about the same period there 
were some harsh measures taken against the Irish Minstrels. 



20 



Tenderly 



GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE. 

AIK-MAID OF THE VALLEY. 



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Bright we've seen it burning. 

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Oft as summer closes, 
When thine eye reposes 
On its lingering roses, 

Once so loved by thee, 
Think of her who wove thorn, 
Her who made thee love them, 

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When, around thee dying, 
Autumn leaves are lying, 

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And. at night, when gazing, 
On the gay hearth blazing, 

0! still remember me." 
Them, should music, stealing 
All the soul of feeling, 
To thy heart appealing, 

Draw one tear from thee ; 
Then let memory bring thee 
Strains I used to sing thee, - 

Oh! then remember me. 



22 



OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. 



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But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, 
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; 
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, 
Shall long keep his memory green in onr souls. 



T>4 



THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. 

Shu. > > AIR— GRAMMACHREE. 



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The harp of Tara swells: 
The chord alone, that breaks at night. 

Its tale of rnin tells. 
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, 

The only throb she gives 
Is when some heart indignant breaks, 

To show that still she lives. 



26 



RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE. 



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* This Ballad is founded upon the following anecdote:— "The people were inspired with such a spirit of 
honour, rirtue, and religion by the great example of Bkien, and by his excellent administration, that, as a proof 
of it, we are informed, a young lady of great beauty, adorned with jewels and a costly dress, undertook a journey 
alone from one end of the kingdom to the other with a wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring 
of exceeding great value; and such an impression had the laws and government of this monarch made on the 
minds of all the people, that no attempt was mado upon her honour, nor was she robbed of her clothes or jewels." 
— Waumkr's History oy Irkland, Vol. I. Book 10. 



RICH AND RARE WERE TflE GEMS SUE WORE. 



27 



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"Lady, dost thou not fear to stray ,| 

So lone and lovely, through this bleak way? 

Are Erin's sons so good or so cold, 

As not to be tempted by woman or gold?" 

III. 
•'Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm, 
No son of Erin will offer me harm: 
For, though they lore women and golden store. 
Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more.' 



IT. 

On she went, and her maiden smile 
In safety lighted her round the green isle; 
And blest for ever is she who relied 
Upon Erin's honour nnd Erin's pride. 



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AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW. 

Pensively. 



AIR-THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM. 



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2ND VERSE, 



29 



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Liko a dead lealless branch in the summer's bright ray 
The beams of the warm Sun play round it in vain — 
It may smile in his light, but it bloomi not again I 



30 



THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.* 



With expression. 



AIR— THE OLD HEAD OF DENIS. 







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* "The meeting of the Waters" forms a part of that beautiful scenery which lies between Rathdrum and 
ArVlow, in the county of Wicklow; and these lines were suggested by a visit to this romantic spot in the summer 
of the year 1S07. 

t The rivers Avon and Avoca. 



TIIE MEETING OF TIIE WATERS. 



31 



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life must de - part Ere the bloom of that val-ley shall fade from my heart! Ere the 



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n. 

Yet is was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene 
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green; 
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, 
Ohl no — it was something more exquisite still. 

ni. 

'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, 
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, 
And who felt how the best charms of Nature improve, 
When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 

IV. 
Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest 
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, 
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, 
And our hearts, like thy waters, bo mingled ir. peace. 



32 



ST. SfiNANUS AKD THE LADY. 



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sod Shall ne'er by wo - man's feet be trod. 




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34 



HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR WHEN DAY-LIGHT DIES. 



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I long to tread that golden path of rays, 
And think 'twould lead to some brigKi i*>le of rest. 



36 



With feeling. 



TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE.* 



AIR-DERMOTT. 




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Thoughts come as pure as light, 



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Pure as ev'n you re- quire; But oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. 



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TAKE HACK THE VIRGIN PAGE 

2ND VERSE. 



37 



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When on its leaves I look, Dear thoughts of you! 



Like you 'tis fair and bright; 




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III. Haply, when from those oyes Far, far away I roam, Should calmer thoughts arise Tow'rds you and home. 

Fane; may trace some line Worthy those oyes to meet; Thoughts that not burn, but shino, 1'uro, calm, 
and sweet ! 

IV. And, as the records are, Which wand'ring seamen keep, Led by their hidden star Through winter's deep; 

So may the words I write Tell through what storms 1 stray, You still the unseen light, Uuiding my way ! 



THE LEGACY. 



WHEN IN DEATH I SHALL CALM RECLINE. 



With Feeling and Gaiety. 



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When the light of my song is o'er, 

Then take my harp to your ancient hall, 
Hang it up at that friendly door, 

Where weary travellers love to call.* 
Then if some bard, who roams forsaken, 

Revive its soft note in passing along, 
Oh! let one thought of its master waken 

Your warmest smile for the child of song. 

III. 
Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing 

To grace your revel when I'm at rest; 
Never, oh! never its balm bestowing 

On lips that beauty hath seldom bless'd. 
But when some warm devoted lover 

To her ho adores shall bathe its brim, 
Then, then my spirit around shall hover, 

And hallow each drop that foams for him. 

• "In every house was one or two Harps, free to all travellers, who 
they celled in Music." — O'Uallouak. 



were the more caressed , the more 



40 



WE MAY ROAM THROUGH THIS WORLD. 

Mtrrily. | AIR— GARYYONE. 



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flies to the rest, And, when pleasure be-gins to grow dull in the east, We may or-der our wings and he 



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n. 

In England the garden of Beauty is kept 

By a dragon of prudery, placed within call; 
But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept, 

That the garden's but carelessly watch'd, after all. 
Oh! they want the wild sweet-briery fence, 

Which round the flow'rs of Erin dwells, 
Which warns the touch while winning the sense, 

Nor charms us least when it most repels. 
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, 

Thro' this world whether eastward or westward you 

roam, 
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, 

Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home. 



ILL 

In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail, 

On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try, 
Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail, 

But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-bye! 
While the daughters of Erin keep the boy 

Ever smiling beside his faithful oar, 
Thro' billows of woe and beams of joy, 

The same as he look'd when he left the shore. 
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd. 

Thro' this world whether eastward or westward you 

roam, 
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, 

Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home. 



42 



EVELEEN'S BOWER. 



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Show'J the track of his footsteps to Eveleen's door. 

The next sun's ray 

Soon melted away 
Every trace on the path where the false Lord came ; 

But there's a light above, 

Which alone can remove 
That stain unon the snow of fair Eveleen's fame. 



44 



LET ERIN REMEMBER THE DAYS OF OLD. 

Grand and spirited. 



Grand and spirited. AIR— TIIE RED FOX. 



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I>anos, in which Malachi defeated two of I h<-ir ( hami-ions, whom he encountered successively hand to hand, taking 

Collar of Cold from the neck of one, and carrying off the Sword of the other, as trophies of his victory." — 

WaU.NI-.u's JllblOJiV OK IliELAND, Vol. I. Book *J. 



LET ERIX REMEMBER THE DAYS OF OLD. 



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On Lough-Neagh's bank, + as the fisherman strays, 

When the clear cold eve's declining, 
lie sees the round towers of other days 

In the wave beneath him shining! 
Thns shall Memory often, in dreams sublime, 

Catch a glimpse of the days that are over ; 
Thus, sighing, look through the waves of Time 

For the long-faded glories they cover ! 

* "Military Orders of Knightfl were very early established in Inland; long before the birth of Christ we 
find an hereditary Order of Chivalry in Ulster,' called , or Cue Enighte of the Bed 

Branch, from their chief seat in Emania, adjoining to the Palace of the Cl>t-r Kings, called I wibhe 

rundh, or the Academy of the Red Branch ; and contiguous to which was a lam Hospital, founded for the sick 
Knights and Soldiers, called Bion-bhcarg, or the House of the Borrowfhl Soldier .'"— O'Hallouan'.- bmtODU< .wx,4c. 
Part 1. Chap. 5. 

f It was an old tradition, in the time of Giraldus, that Longh-Seagh had been originally a fountain, by 
whose sudden overflowing the country was inundated, and a whole region, like the Atlanth 
He says that the fishermen, in clear weather, used to point oat I the tall eccl 

the water: — " Piscatores aqua illius turns iccLsiasticas , y» ice arctic sunt et < 

sub vndis maniftate sireno tempore consjiiciunt , it txtranns tiaiiseimtibus nigue causas admiranUbu 
Ostendunt." — ToroGR. IIib. Dist. 2, C. 'J. 



4b 



SILENT, MOYLE ! BE THE ROAR OF THY WATER. 

THE SONG OF FIONNUALA.* 



Mournfully. 



AIR-ARRAH, MY DEAR EVELEEN. 






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* To make this story intelligible in a Jong would require a much greater number of verses than any 
one is authorized to inflict upon an audience at once; the reader must therefore be content to learn, in a note, 
that Fionnuala, the daughter of Lir, was, by some supernatural power, transformed into a Swan, and condemned 
to wander, for many hundred years, over certain lakes and rivers of Ireland, till the coming of Christianity, when 
the first sound of the Mass-bell was to bo the signal of her release. — I found this fanciful fiction among some 
manuMript translations from the Irish, which were begun under the direction of that enlightened friend of Ire- 
land, the late Countess of Moira. 



SILENT, O MOYLE! BE TnE ROAR OF THY WATRB. 



47 



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U.) 

Sadly, o Moyle ! to thy winter-wave weeping, 

Fate hids me languish long ages away; 
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping, 

Still doth the pure light its dawning delay ! 
When will that day-star, mildly springing, 

Warm onr Isle with peace and love? 
When will Heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 

Call my spirit to the fields above? 



48 



Spirited. 



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COME, SEND ROUND THE WINE. 

AIR-WE BROUGHT THE SUMMER WI TH US. 

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II. 



Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my sid> 

In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree? 
Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, 

If he kneel not before the same altar with me? 
From the heretic girl of my soul should I fly, 

To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss? 
No, perish the hearts, and the laws that try 

Truth, valour, or love, by a standard lik* this I 



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SUBLIME WAS THE WARNING WHICH LIBERTY SPOKE. 

With spirit. AIR-THE BLACK JOKE. 



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11. 

If the fame of our fathers, bequeath'd with their rights, 
Give to country its charm and to home its delights; 

If deceit be a wound and suspicion a stain; j 
Then, ye men of Iberia! our cause is the 6ame — 
And, oh! may his tomb want a tear and a name, 
Who would ask for a nobler, a holier death, 
Than to turn his last sigh into Victory's breath 

For the Shamrock of Erin and Olive of Spain! 

III. 
Te Blakes and O'Donnels, whose fathers resign'd 
The green hills of their youth, among strangers to find 

That repose which, at home, they had 6igh'd for in vain, 
Breathe a hope that the magical flame, which you light, 
May be felt yet in Erin, as calm and as bright; 
And forgive even Albion, while, blushing, she draws, 
Like a truant, her sword, in the long-slighted cause 

Of the Shamrock of Erin and Olive of Spain ! 

IV. 
God prosper the cause ! — Oh ! it cannot but thrive, 
While the pulse of one patriot heart is alive, 

Its devotion to feel and its rights to maintain: 
Then how sainted by sorrow its martyrs will die 1 
The finger of glory t-hall point where they lie; 
While far from the footstep of coward or slave, 
The young Spirit of Freedom shall shelter their grava 

Beneath Shamrocks of Erin and Olives of Spain I 



'2 



BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS. 

With /tiling. AIR—MY LODGING IS ON THE COLD GROUND. 




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II. 

It is not while heauty and youth are thine own, 

And thy cheeks nnprofaned by a tear, 
That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known, 

To which time will but make thee more dear; 
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, 

But as truly loves on to the close, 
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets, 

The same look which she turn'd when he r <>e. 



54 



LIKE THE BRIGHT LAMP. 



With feeling and solemnity 



AIR-THAMAMA HALLA. 




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The nations have fallen, and thou still art young, 
Thy sun is but rising, when others are set: 

And though slavery's cloud o'er tby morning hath hung 
The full noon of freedom shall bpam round thee yet. 

Erin, Erin! though long in the shade, 

Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade. 



m. 

Unchill'd by the rain, and unwakod by the wind, 
The lily lies sleeping through winter's cold hour, 

Till Spring's light touch her fetters unbind, 
And daylight and liberty bless the young flow'r. 

Thus Erin, Erin ! tin/ winter is past, 

And the hope that lived through it shall blossom at last. 



On! THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT 

riayful. 



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OH! THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT. 



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II. 



The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows ! 

If it were not with friendship and love intertwined; 
And I care not how soon I may sink to repose, 

When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind. 
But they who have loved the fondest, the purest, 

Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed; 
And the heart that has slumber'd in friendship securest 

Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived. 
But send round tho bowl; while a relic of truth 

Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be mine, — 
That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth, 

And the moonlight of friendship console our doclino. 



THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP. 



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But she loved him in vain, for he loft her to w>pp, 
And in tears all the night, her gold tresses to steep, 
Till Heaven look'd with pity on true love so warm. 
And changed to this soft Harp tho sea-maidou's form. 



III. 

Still her bosom rose fair— still her cheeks smiled the same- 
While her sea-beauties gracefully form'd tho light frame; 
And her hair, as, let loose, o'er her whitp arm it fell. 
Was changed to bright chords, uttering melody's spell. 



IY. 



Hence it came that this soft Harp so long hath been known 

To mingle love's language with sorrow's sail tone; 

Till thou didst divide them, and teach the f.tnd lay, 

To speak love when I'm near thee, and grief when away! 



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DRINK TO HER. 

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AIR-HEIGH HO ! MY JACKEY. 



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II. 
At Beauty's door of glass 

When Wealth and Wit once stood, 
They ask'd her, "which might pass?' 1 

She answer'd, "ho who could." 
With golden kay Wealth thought 

To pass — but 'twould not do: 
While Wit a diamond brought, 

Which cut his bright w.vy through. 
So here's to her who long 

Hath waked the poet's sigh, 
The girl who gave to song 

Whit gold could r.over buy. 



III. 
Tho love that seeks a home 

Where wealth and grandeur shines. 
Is like the gloomy gnome 

That dwells in dark gold 
But oh! the poet's love 

Can boast a brighter sphere ; 
Its native home's above, 

Though woman keeps it here. 
Then drink to her who long 

liath waked tho poet's sigh, 
The girl who gavo to song 

What gold could n.'ver buy. 



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AIR-KITTY TYRHEL. 



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• We may suppose this apology to have been uttered hy one of those wandoring hards whom Spenser so 
ueverely , nnd, perhaps, truly describe! in liis state of Ireland, and whose poems, he tells us, "were sprinkled 
with tome pretty (lowers of their Datura] device, which gave pood grace and comeliness unto them; the which it 
is great pity to see abused to the gracing of vtickudnc.-s and vice, which, with good usago, would serve to adorn 
and beautify virtue." 



OH! BLAME NOT THE BARD. 



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But, alas for his country !— her pride has gone by, 

And that spirit is broken, which never would bend; 
O'er the ruin her children in secret must sigh, 

For 'tis treason to love her, and death to defend. 
Unprized are her sons, till they've learn'd to betray; 

Undistinguish'd they live, if they shame not their sires; 
And the torch, that would light them through dignity's way, 

Must be caught from the pile where their country ex- 
pires. 



III. 
Then blame not the bard, if in pleasure's soft dream 

He should try to forget what he never can heal; 
Oh ! give but a hope— let a vista but gleam 

Through the gloom of his country, and mark how he'll 
feel ! 
That instant, his heart at her shrine would lay down; 

Every passion it nursed, every bliss it adored. 
While the myrtle, now idly entwined with his crown, 

Like the wreath of Harmodious, should cover his 6word.f 



IV. 

But though glory be gone, and though hope fade away, 

Thy name, loved Erin, shall live in his songs; 
Not even in the hour when his heart is most guy, 

Will he lose the remembrance of then and thy wrongs. 
The stranger shall hear thy lament on his plains; 

The sigh of thy harp shall be sent o'er the deep, 
Till thy masters themselves, as they rivet thy chains, 

Shall pause at the 6ong of their captive, and weep ! 

* It is conjectured by Wormius , that the name of Irolaml U derived from Yr, the Runic for a bote, in the 
rjHO of which weapon the Irish were once very expert. This derivation is certainly more creditable to us than 
the following: — "So that Ireland, (called the land of he, for the constant broils therein for 400 years), was now 
become the land of concord.'' Lloyd's Stats Worthies. Art. 'The Lord Grandison.' 

t See the Hymn attributed to AlcnUfl, ' I'.v [rjpxol ftXciSi to gieo< cfopr'pto— "I will carry my sword, hidd«* 
in myrtles, like Harmodius and Aristogiton ,'' Ac. 



64 



WHILE GAZING ON THE MOON'S LIGHT. 



AIR-OONAGH. 



Tenderly. 



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The day had sunk in dim showers, 

But midnight now, with lustre meek, 
Illumined all the pale flowers, 
Like hope, that lights a mourner's cheek. 
I said (while 
The moon's smile 
Play'd o'er a stream, in dimpling bliss), 
"The moon looks 
On many brooks ; 
The brook can seo no moon but this." 
And thus, I thought, our fortunes run, 

For many a lover looks to thee; 

While, oh! I feel there is but one, 

One Mary in the world for me] 



06 



WHEN DAYLIGHT WAS YET SLEEPING. 

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As she look'd in the glass, which a woman ne'er misses, 

Nor ever wants time for a sly glance or two, 
A hutterfly, fresh from the night-flower's kisses, 

Flow over the mirror, and shaded her view. 
Enraged with the insect for hiding her graces, 

8he brush'd him — he fell, alas! — never to rise: — 
"Ah ! snch," said the girl, "is the pride of our faces, 

For which the soul's innocence too often dies!" 



III. 

While she stole through the garden, whore heart's-ease was growing, 

She cull'd some, and kiss'd off its night-fallen dew; 
And a rose, further on, look'd so tempting and glowing, 

That, spite of her haste, she must gather it too : 
But, while o'er the roses too carelessly leaning, 

Her zone flew in two, and the heart's-ease was lost : — 
11 Ah! this means," said the girl, (and she sigh'd at its meaning,) 

"That love is scarce worth the repose it will cost!'' 



G8 



BEFOEE THE BATTLE. 
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BEFORE THE BATTLE, 



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BEFORE THE BATTLE. 



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The smiles of home may sooth -ing shine, 



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BEFORE THE BATTLE. 



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BEFORE THE BATTLE. 



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OH ! THE DAYS ARE GONE, WHEN BEAUTY BRIGHT. 



Moderate lime, with expression. 



AIR-THE OLD WOMAN. 






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dream of life from morn 'till night, Was lore, still love ! New hope may bloom And 



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ii. 

Oh ! that fairy form is ne'er forgot, 

Which first lore traced; 
Still it ling'ring hannts the greenest spot 

On mem'ry'a waste I 
•T was odonr fled 
As soon as shod; 

' T was morning's winged dream ! 
'T was a light, that ne'er can shine again 

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Oh! 't was light, that ne'er can shine again 

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NIGHT CLOSED AROUND THE CONQUEROR'S WAY 
(after the battle.) 



With solemnity. 



AIR-THY FAIR BOSOM. 



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hope, the pa - triot's zeal .... For ev - «r dimm'd, for er - er crost — Ohl 

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n. 

The last sad hour of Freedom's dream 

And Valour's task moved slowly by, 
While mute they watch'd, till morning's beam 

Should rise, and give them light to die! — 
There is a world, where souls are free, 

Where tyrants taint not Nature's bliss:. 
If death that world's bright opening be, 

Ohl who would Iir« a slave in thu? 



82 



OH! 'T IS SWEET TO THINK. 



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AIR-THADY, YOU GANDER. 




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'T were a fihame , when flowers around us rise, 

To m;iko light of the rest if tho rose is nut there; 
And the world's so rich in resplendent eyes, 

'T were a pity to limit one's love to a pair. 
Love's wing and tho peacock's are nearly alike; 

They are both of them bright, t.ut they're changeable too: 
And, wherever u now beam of beauty 0M strike. 

It will tincture Love's plume with a different hue. 
Then, oh! what pleasuro, where'er «e rove, 

To be doom'd to find something still that is dear; 
And to know, when far from the lips we love, 

We have but to mako love to the lips ws are near t 



S4 



THROUGH GRIEF AND THROUGH DANGER. 

(TIIE IRISH PEASANT TO HIS MISTRESS.) 



With feeling. 



AIE-I ONCE HAD A TBUE LOVE. 



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TIIliOUGn GRIEF AND THROUGH DANGER. 



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turn'J;Oh! slave as I was, in thy arms my spir-it felt free, And bless'd ev'n the 

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Thy rival was honour'd, whilst thou wert wrong' d and scorn'J 
Thy crown was of briers, while gold her brows adorn'd; 
She woo'd me to temples, while thou layest hid in caves, 
Her friends were all masters, while thine, alas! were slaves; 
Yet cold in the earth, at thy feet, I would rather be, 
Than wed what I love not, or turn one thought from thee. 



m. 1 

They slander thee sorely, who say thy Vows are frail — 
Hadst thou been a false one , thy cheek had look'd less pale. 
They say too, so long thou hast worn those lingering chains, 
That deep in thy heart they have printed their servile stains • 
Oh ! foul is the slander — no chain could that soul subdue — 
"Where shineth thy spirit, there liberty shineth tool 



86 



ON MUSIC. 

WHEN THROUGH LIFE UNBLEST WE ROVE. 



Slot$ and with feeling. 

CN5 OS 



AIR-BANKS OF BANNA. 




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ON MUSIC. 



87 



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Oh I how wel - come breathes the strain, Wak'ning thoughts that 



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Like the gale that sighs along 

Beds of oriental flowers, 
Is the grateful breath of song 

That once was heard in happier hours; 
Fill'd with balm , the gale sighs on, 

Though the flowers have sunk in death; 
So, when pleasure's dream is gone, 

Its memory lives in Music's breath. 

III. 

Music! oh, how faint, how weak, 

Language fades before thy spell! 
Why should Feeling ever speak, 

When thou canst breathe her soul so well? 
Friendship's balmy words may foign, 

Love's are oven moro f.ilse than they; 
Oh! 't is only Music's strain 

Can sweetly, soothe, and not betray! 



88 



IT IS NOT THE TEAK AT THIS MOMENT SKlD 

With expression. 



AIR— THE SIXPENCE. 




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IT IS NOT TIIE TEAR AT THIS MOMENT SUED. 






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Oh! thus shall we mourn; and his memory's light, 

While it shines through onr hearts, will improve them; 
For worth shall loolc fairer, and truth more bright, 

When we think how he lived but to love them I 
And, as buried saints the grave perfume, 

Where, fadeless, they've long been lying, 
So our hearts shall borrow a sweet'ning bloom 

From the image he left there in dying! 



90 



THOUGH DARK ARE OUR SORROWS. 



With spirit and filling. 



AIB-ST. PATRICK'S DAT. 




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Contempt on the minion who calls yon disloyal ! 

Though fierce to your foe, to your friends you are true; 
And the tribute most high to a head that is royal, 
Is love from a heart that loves liberty too. 
While cowards, who blight 
Your fame, your right, 
Would shrink from the blaze of the battle array, 
The standard of Green 
In front would be seen — 
Oh ! my life on your faith ! were you summon'd this minute, 

You'd ca6t every bitter remembrance away, 
And 6how what the arm of old Erin has in it, 
When roused by the foe, on her Prince';. Day. 



in. 

He loves the Green Isle, and his love is recorded 

In hearts which have suffer'd too much to forget: 
And hope shall be crown'd and attachment rewarded. 
And Erin's gay jubilee shine out yet. 
The gem may be broke 
By many a stroke, 
' But nothing can cloud its native ray, 
Each fragment will cast 
A light to the last. — 
And thus Erin, my country, though broken thou art. 
There's a lustre within thee that ne'er will decay; 
A spirit which beams through each suffering part, 
And now smiles at all pain on the Prince's Day. 



92 



Mournfully 



WEEP ON, WEEP ON. 



AIR— THE SONG OF SORROW. 



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vain the He - ro's heart hath hied; The Sage-'s tongue hath warn'd in vain; — Oh, Freedom! once thy 

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hate, You never join'd in love. Bnt hearts fell off that ought to twine, And man profaned what Uod hath 
given, Till some were heard to curse the Bhrine Where others knelt to Heaven." 



SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND. 



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AIR-OPEN TIIE DOOR. 



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She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, 
Every note which he loved awaking; — 

Ah! little tliey think, who delight in her strains, 
IIow the heart of the Minstrel is breaking. 



IV. 



in. 

He Tiad lived for his love, f©r his country he died, 
They were all that to life had entwined him; 

Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him. 



Oh ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest 

When they promise a glorious morrow; 
They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the West, 

From her own lovdd island of sorrow. 



94 



MY NORA CREINA, 



LESBIA HAS A BEAMING EYE. 



With lightness and expression. 



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n. 

Lesbia wears a robe of gold, 

But all so close the nymph has laced it, 
Not a charm of beauty's mould 

Presumes to stay where nature placed itl 
Oh ! my Nora's gown for me, 

That floats as wild as mountain breezes, 
Leaving ev'ry beauty free 

To sink or swell as heaven pleases! 
Yes, my Nora Creina dearl 

My simple, graceful Nora Creina! 
Nature's dress 
Is loveliness, 
The dress you wear, my Nora Creina! 



III. 

Lesbia has a wit refined, 

But, when its points are gleaming round us, 
Who can tell if they "re design'd 

To dazzle mere'y , or to wound us. 
Tillow'd on my Nora's heart, 

In safer slumber love reposes; — 
Bed of peace ! whose roughest part 

Is but the crumpling of the roses! 
Oh, my Nora Creina dear! 

My mild, my artless Nora Creina! 
Wit, tho' bright, 
lias not the light 
That warms your eyes , my Nora Creina .' 



96 



I SAW THY FORM. 



Tenderty 



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in thy smile of death, Ma-ri! 



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II. As streams, that run o'er golden mines, With modest murmur glide, Nor seem to know the wealth that 
shines Within their gentle tide, Mu.ui ! So, veil'd beneath a simple guise, Thy radiant genius shone, And 
th.it, which charm'd all otfctt ncs, Seom'd worthless in thy own, Maky I 

III. [f kouIs could always dwell above, Thou ne'er hadst left that sphere; Or, could wo keep the souls we lovfe, 
We ne'er had lost thee here, Makt ! Though many a gifted mind we meet, Though fairest forms we see, 
To live with them is far less sweet Than to remember thee, Maui! 



97 



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WHAT THE BEE ES TO THE FLOWBET. 

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That, my love, I'll be to you ! What the bank, with ver - dure glow-ing, 



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while they're go - ing, That I'll he to you my dear! 



while they're go - ing, That I'll he to you my dear! 



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BY THAT LAKE, WHOSE GLOOMY SHORE.* 

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cliff hangs high and steep, Young Saint Ke - vin stole to sleep. "Here, at least," he calm-ly 



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* This ballad is founded upon one of the many stories related of St. Kevi*, whose bed in the rock is to 
be seen at Glendalougb, a mo I gloomy and romantic spot in the county of Wicklow. 

f There are many other curious traditions concerning this lake, which may be found in Gikaldus, 
Coigan, Ac. 



BY THAT LAKE, WHOSE GLOOMY SHORE. 



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Twas from Kathleen's eyes he flew, — 
Eyes of most unholy blue! 
She had loved him well and long, 
Wish'd him hers , nor thought it wrong 
Wheresoe'er the Saint would fly, 
Still he heard her light foot nigh ; 
East or west, where'er he turn'd, 
Still her eyes before him burn'd. 



IV. 

Fearless she had track'd his feet 
To this rocky, wild retreat; 
And, when morning met his view, 
Her mild glances met it too. 
Ah! your Saints have cruel hearts! 
Sternly from his bed he starts. 
And, with rude, repulsive shock, 
Hurls her from the beetling r 



III. 

On the bold cliff's bosom cast, 
Tranquil now he sleeps at last; 
Dreams of heaven, nor thinks that e'er 
Woman's smile can haunt him there. 
But nor earth nor heaven is free 
From her power if fond she be : 
Even now, while calm he sleeps, 
Kathleen o'er him leans and weeps. 



V. 

Glendalough ! thy gloomy wave 
Soon was gentle Kathleen's grave! 
Soon the Saint (yet ah! too 1 : 
Felt her love, and mourn'd her fate. 
When he said, "Heaven rest her soul;" 
Round the lake light music stole; 
And her ghost was seen to glide, 
Smiling, o'er the fatal tide 1 



102 



With gaiety and spirit. 



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AIR— DENNIS, DON'T BE THREATENING. 



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ii. 

They tell us that Love , in his fairy bower, 

Had two blush-roses, of birth divine; 
He sprinkled the one with a rainbow's shower, 
But bathed the other with mantling wine. 
Soon did the buds 
That drank of the floods 
Distill'd by the rainbow decline and fade; 
While those which the tide 
Of ruby had dyed 
All blush'd into beauty, like thee, sweet maid! 
Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal 

One blissful dream of the heart from me; 

Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, 

The bowl but brightens my lore for thee. 



104 



AVENGING AND BRIGHT. 



Boldly. 



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* The name of this beautiful and truly Irish air is, I am told, properly written Cruachan na Fcine, i. e., 
the Fenian Mount, or mount of the Finnian heroes, those brave followers of Finn Mac Cool, so celebrated in the 
early history of our country. 

The words of this song were suggested by the very ancient Irish story called "Deirdri, or the lamentable 
fate of the Bons of Usnach," which has been translated literally from the Gaelic, by Mr. O'Flanagan (see Vol. I. 
of Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Dublin), and upon which it appears that the "Darthula" of Macpherson 
is founded. The treachery of Conor, king of Ulster, in putting to death the three sons of Usna, was the tause of 
lating war against Ulster, which terminated in the destruction of Eman. "This story (says Mr. O'Flanagan) 
has been from time immemorial held in high repute as one of the three tragic stories of the Irish. These are, 
'Th" denth of the Children of Touran,' 'The death of the Children of Lear' (both regarding Tuatha de Danans), 
and this, 'The death of the Children of Usnach,' which is a Milesian story."— It will be recollected, that, at 
page 40 ofthe.se Melodies, there is a Ballad upon the story of the Children of Lear or Lir: "Silent, Moyle ! '' &c. 

Whatever may be thought of those sanguine claims to antiquity, which Mr. O'Flanagan and others ad- 
vance for ihe literature of Ireland, it would be a very lasting reproch upon our nationality, if the Gaelic researches 
of this gentleman did not meet with all the liberal encouragement which they merit. 



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AVENGING AND BRIGHT. 

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drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o'er her blade. 



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By the red cloud that hung over Conor's dark dwelling,* 
When Iliad's** throe champions lay sleeping in gore — 

By the billows of war, which so often, high swelling, 
Have wafted theso heroes to victory's shore — 

m. 

Wo swear to revenge them! — no joy shall he tasted, 
The harp shall be silent, the maiden unwed, 

Our halls shall be mute and our fields shall lie wasted. 
Till vengeance is wreak'd on the murderer's head I 

IV. 

Yes, monarch! though sweet are our home recollections, 
Though sweet are the tears that from tenderness fall ; 

Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes, our affections, 
Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all ! 



■ '0 Naisi ! view the cloud that I here see in the sky I I see over Eman green a chilling clond of blood- 
tinged red." — Deirdri's Song. 
*• Ulster. 



100 



LOVE AND TIIE NOVICE. 

HERE WE DWELL IN HOLIEST BOWERS. 



Smooth!)/ and in moderate time. 



AIR-CEAN DUBH DELISH. 



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LOVE AND THE NOVICE. 



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n. 

Love stood near the Novice and listen'd, 

And Love is no novice in taking a hint; 
His laughing blue eyes soon with piety glisten'd; 
His rosy wing turn'd to heaven's own tint. 
"Who would have thought," the urchin cries, 
"That Love could so well, so gravely disguise 
His wandering wings and wounding eyes?" 



m. 

Love now warms thee, waking and sleeping, 
Toung Novice, to him all thy orisons rise, 
He tinges the heavenly fount with his weeping, 
Ee brightens the censer's flame with his Bighs. 
Love is the saint enshrined in thy breast, 
And angels themselves would admit such a guest, 
If he came to them clothed in Piety's vest. 



103 



THIS LIFE IS ALL CHEQUERED. 



With feeling and gaiety. 



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II. 

When Hylas was sent with his nrn to the fonnt, 

Through fields full of light , with heart full of play, 
Light rambled the boy, over meadow and mount, 

And neglected his task for the flowers on the way.* 
Thus many , like me , who in youth should have tasted 

The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine, 
Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted 

And left their light urns all as empty as mine. 
But pledge me the goblet — while idleness weaves 

These flowerets together , should Wisdom but see 
One bright drop or two that has fallen on the leaves 

From her fountain divine, 't is sufficient for mo. 



• Propoeito florem pratu.it officio. — Troprrt. lib. i. elcg. 20. 



COME, REST IN TIIIS BOSOM. 



ill 



With melancholy feeling , but not loo slow. 



AIR-LOUGn snErLINO. 



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Oh! what was love made for. if 't La nri th* sain* Then has calVd mo thy An el in moments el ' 

Throughjoy and through to ugh glory and shame! And thy Angel I'll b 

I know not, I aek not, if guili's in Thruogh the furnace, unshrinking. I pursue, 

I bit know that 1 love thee, whatever thou art. And shield thee, and tare i. . there too 



112 



Lhdy. 



THE YOUNG MAY MOON. 



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* "Steals silently to Morna's grove." See a translation from the Irish, in Mr. Bunting's collection, by 
John Brown, one of my • Bge companions and friends, whose death was as singularly melancholy and 

unfortunate as his life has been amiable, honourable, and exemplary. 



TIIE YOUNG MAY MOON. 

Untando. ad lib. 



113 



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Now all the world is sleeping, lore, 

But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, 

And I whose star, 

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Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. 
Then awake ! — till rise of sun, my dear, 
The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, 

Or, in watching the flight 

Of bodies of light, 
He might happen to take thee for one, my dear. 



114 



OH THE SHAMROCK! 



In moderate time. 



AIR-ALLEY CROKER. 



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• Saint PatBIOK i« paid to have made use of that species of the trefoil, to which in Ireland wo givo the 
name of Shamrock, La explaining the doctrine of the Trinity to the pagan Irish. I do not know if there bo any 
Ol M rea on for "iir adoption of this plant as a national emblem. Hon;, among tbo ancients, was sometimes re- 
ft beautiful child, "standing upon tip-toes, and a trefoil or three-colourod grass in her hand." 



On TIIE SnAMROCK! 



115 



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Says Valour, "See, 

They spring for me, 
Those leafy gems of morning ! ** — 

Says Love, "No, no, 

For me they grow, 
My fragrant path adorning,'* 

But Wit perceives 

The triple leaves, 
And cries, "Oh! do not sever 

A type that hlends 

Three godlike friends, 
Love, Valour, Wit, for ever!" 
the Shamrock, the greon, immortal Shamrock 1 
Chosen leaf 

Of Bard and Chief, 
Old Erin's native Shamrock! 



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So firmly fond 

May last the bond 
They wove that morn together, 

And ne'er may fall 

One drop of gall 
On Wit's celestial feather! 

May Love, as twine 

His flowers divine, 
Of thorny falsehood weed 'em! 

May Valour ne'er 

His standard roar 

Against the cause of Freedom ! 
the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock I 
Chosen leaf 

Of Bard and Chief, 
OM5 Erin's native Shamrock! 



116 



THE MINSTREL BOY. 



With strength and spirit. 



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The Minstrel fell ! — bat the foeman's chain 

Conld not bring that proud soul under ; 
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, 

For he tore its chords asunder ; 
And said, "No chains shall sully thee, 

"Thou soul of love and bravery! 
"Thy 6ongs were made for the pure and free, 

"They shall never sound in slavery." 



118 



ID MOURN THE HOPES THAT LEAVE ME. 



Tenderly. AIR— THE ROSE TR 



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HI. 



'Tis not in fate to harm me, 

While fate leaves thy love to me; 
'Tis not in joy to charm me, 

Unless joy be shared with thee. 
One minute's dream about thee, 

Were worth a long and endless year 
Of waking bliss without thee, 

My own love, my only dear! 



And though the hope be gone, love, 
That long sparkled o'er our way, 

Oh ! we shall journey on , love, 
More safely without its ray. 

Far better lights shall win me 
Along the path I've yet to roam — 

The mind that burns within me, 

And pure smiles from thee at h » 



IV. 



Thus, when the lamp that lighted 

The traveller at first goes out, 
He feels awhile benighted, 

And looks around in fear and doubt. 
But soon, the prospect clearing, 

By cloudless starlight on he treads, 
And thinks no lamp so cheering 

As that light which Heaven sheds. 



i20 



THE TIME I 'VE LOST IN WOOING. 

Lightly and in moderate time 



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TJIE TIME I VE LOST IN WOOING . 



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"Woman's looks, And Fol-ly's all they've taught me. 



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Her smile when Beauty granted, 
I hung with gaze enchanted, 

Like him the Sprite* 

Whom maids hy night 
Oft meet in glen that's haunted. 
Like him, too, Beauty won me, 
But while her eyes were on me, 

If once their ray 

Was turn'd away, 
Oh! winds could not outrun me. 



m. 

And are those follies going? 
And is my proud heart growing 

Too cold or wise 

For hrilliant eyes 
Again to set it glowing? 
No— vain , alas ! th' endeavour 
From bonds so sweet to sever;- 

Poor Wisdom's chance 

Against a glance 
Is now as weak as ever. 



* This alludes to a kind of Irish Fairy, which is to he met with, they say, in the fields, at dusk; — as 
long as you keep your eyes upon him, r«3 is fixed and in your power; but the moment you look away (and he is 
ingenious in furnishing some inducement), he vanishes. I had thought that thifl was the sprite which we call the 
Leprechaun; but a high authority upon such subjects, Lady IfoKQA* (in a note upon her national and interesting 
novel, O'DonnelJ, has given a very different account of that Goblin. 



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II. 

Sweet voice of comfort! 'twas like the stealing 

Of summer wind through some wreathed shell - 
Each secret winding, each inmost feeling 

Of all my soul echoed to its spell I — 
*T was whisper'd balm — 'twas sunshine spoken. 

I'd live years of grief and pain 
To have my long sleep of sorrow broken 

tty such benign, blessed sounds again. 



124 



DEAR HARP OF MY COUNTRY. 

Moderate time, and tcith much warmth of expression. AIR— NEW LANGOLEE. 



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Dear Harp of my Country] in dark-npss I found thee, The cold chain of si-lence* had 



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* In that rebellious hut beautiful Bong— "When Erin first rose," there is, if I recollect right, the following line: — 
"The dark chain of silence was thrown o'er the d^p." 
The Chain of Silence was a sort of practical figure of rhetoric among the ancient Irish. Walker tells us of "a 
celebrated contention for precedence between Finn and Caul, near Finn's palacw at Almhaim, where the attending 
L.inls, anxious, if possible, to produce a cessation of hostilities, shook the Chain of Silence, and flung themselves 
among the ranks." bee also the Ode to Gaul, the son of Morni, in Miss Crook's licliques of Jiish 1'ociry. 



DEAR HARP OF MY COUNTRY. 



125 



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Dear Harp of my Country ! farewell to thy numbers, 

This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twin*; 
Go, — sleep, with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers. 

Till tonch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine. 
If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover, 

Have throbb'd at our lay, 't is thy glory alone; 
I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over. 

And all the wild sweetness I w.ikod was thy o 



126 



AT THE MID HOUR OF NIGHT. 



Sloto, and with melancholy expression. 



AIR-MOLLY, MY DEAR. 



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127 



2ND VERSE. 

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* '-Thorn are countries," says Montaigne, "where they before lha ^ouls of the happy live in all manner 
•f liberty, in delightful fields; and that it is those souls repeating the words we utter, which we call Echo." 



12S 



§ 



With animation. 



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ONE BUMPER AT PARTING. 

AIR-MOLL ROE IN THE MORNING. 

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As onward we journey, how pleasant 

To pause and inhabit awhile 
Those few sunny spots, like the prespnt, 
-»Tbat 'mid the dull wildern- 
Bjit time, like a pitiless muster, 

Cries "Onward:" and spurs the gay hours — 
Ah , never doth time travel faster. 

Than when his way lies among flow 
But come— may our life's happy measure 

Be all of such moments made up; 
They're born on the bosorrf of Pleasure,! 

They dLe 'midst the tears of the cup, 



We saw how the sun look'd in sirV : rg. 

The waters beneath him how 

And now let our farewell of dr 

: .rewell of lit 

Tou saw how he finish'd, by a 

. ieep billowV 

So. till up, let's shine at our partiug. 

In full, liquid glory, like him. 
And oh ! may our life's happy 
Of moments like this b 
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It die* 'mid the • oup. 



130 



THE VALLEY LAY SMILING BEFORE ME. 

THE SONG OF O'RUARK, PRINCE OF BREFFNI.* 

According to the feeling of each verse. 



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AIR— THE PRETTY GIRL MILKING HER COW. 




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• These stanzas are founded npon an event of most melancholy importance to Ireland; if, as we are told 
6y onr Irish historians, it gave England the first opportunity of profiting by our divisions and subduing us. The 
following are the circumstances as related by (PHalloran: — "The King of Leinster had long conceived a violent 
affection for Dearbhorgil, daughter to the King of Meath, and though she had been for some time married to 
O'Ruark, Prince of Breffni, yet could it not restrain his passion. They carried on a private correspondence, and 
she informed him that O'Ruark intonded soon to go on a pilgrimage fan act of piety frequent in those days), and 
conjured him to embrace that opportunity of conveying her from a husband she detested to a lover she adored. 
1 Kurchad too punctually obeyed the summons, and had the lady conveyed to his capital of Ferns." — The 
li B 'ideric espoused the cause of O'Ruark, while Mac Murchad fled to England, and obtained the assistance 
of Henry II. 



THE VALLEY LAV SMILING BEFOKE ME. 



131 



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look'd for the lamp, which she told me Should shine when her pil - grim re- 



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I flew to her chamber — 'twas lonely, 

As if the loved tenant lay dead; — 
Ah, would it were death, and death only! 

Cut no, the young false one had fled. 
And there hung the lute that could soften 

My very worst pains into bliss, 
While the hand that had waked it so often 

Now throlb'd to a proud rival's kiss. 



There teas a time, falsest of women! 

When Breft'ni's good sword would have sought 
That man, through a million of foemen, 

Who dared but to wrong thee in thought! 
While now — degenerate daughter 

Of Erin, how fallen is thy fame! 

And through ages of bondage and slaughter. 

Our country shall bleed for thy shame. 



rv. 



Already the curse is upon her, 

And strangers her valleys profane; 

They come to divide — to dishonour, 
And tyrants they long will remain. 

But onward! — tho green banner rearing, 
•>h every sw.ml to the hilt; 

On our side is Virtue and Krin, 
On theirs is the Saxon and guilt. 



132 



OH ! HAD WE SOME BRIGHT LITTLE ISLE. 

With lightness, and in moderate time 



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AIR— SHEELA NA GU1RA. 



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There with souls ever ardent and pure as the clirv.o. 
We should love as they loved in the first golden time ; 
The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air. 
Would steal to our hearts, and make all summer there. 
With affection as free 

From decline as the bowers, 
And with hope, like the bee, 

Living always on flowers, 
Our life should resemble a long day of light, 
And our death come on holy and calm as the night. 



134 



FAREWELL! BUT, WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR. 



'With expression. J 



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II. 

And still on that evenincr, when pleasure fills up 
To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup, 
Where'er my path lies, he it gloomy or bright, 
Mf soul, happy friends, shall bo with you that night; 
Shall join in your revels, your Bports, and youi 

And return to me beaming all o'er with your smiles 

Too blest, if it tells me, that 'mid the gay ol r 

Some kind voice had murmur'd, "I wish he were here!" 



IU. 

Let Fate do her worst; there are relics of joy, 
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot "destroy 
Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, > 
And bring back the features that joy used to "car. I 
long be my heart with such memories tiil'd! 

e, in which roses have o ui 'd - 

XOU may break, yon may shatter the 

But the scout of the roses will hang round it still. 



136 



Wtth filling and chcerfuhujj^ 



OH! DOUBT ME NOT 



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AIR -YELLOW WAT AND THE FOX. 

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And though my lute no longer 

May sing of Passion's ardent spell, 
Yet, trust me, all the stronger 
I feel the bliss I do not tell. 
The bee through many a garden roves, 
And hums his lay of courtship o'er, 
But, when he finds the flower he loves, 
He settles there, and hums no more. 
Then doubt me not— the so. 

Is o'er when Folly kept me free, 
And now the vestal, Reason, 
Shall guard the flame awaked by thee. 



138 



COME O'ER THE SEA. 



With impassioned melancholy. 



AIE— CUSHLA MA CHREE. 



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• The following are some of the original words of this wild and singular Air j — they contain rather an 
Odd assortment of grievances. 

Cushla ma chree, 
l)id you but see 
How, the rogue, he did s rve me; — Ms. 
He broke my pitcher, lie ?pilt my water, 
He kitss'd my wife, and he married iuy daughterl 
Cushla ma chree! ic. 



COME o'er the 



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Was not the sea 

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Land for courts and chains alone? 

Here we are slaves, 

But, on the waves, 
Love and liberty's all our own. 
No eye to watch , and no tongue to wound us. 
All earth forgot, and all heaven around u.-> — 

Then como o'er the sea, 

Maiden, with me. 
Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows; 

Seasons may roll, 

But the true soul 
Burns the same , where'er it goes. 



140 



OH! COULD WE DO WITH THIS WORLD OF OURS. 

Lixdy. AIR— BASKET OF OYSTERS. 














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Oil ! COULD WE DO WITH THIS WORLD OP OUE3. 



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II. 



Like those gay flies that wing thro' air. 
And in themselves a lustre bear, 
A stack of light, still ready there, 

Whenever they wish to use it; — 
So, in this world I'd make for thee, 
Our hearts should all like lire-flies be, 
And the flash of wit or poesy 

Break forth whenever we choose it. 



III. 

While ev'ry joy that glads onr sphere 
Hath still some shadow hov'fing near, 
in this new world of ours, mf dear, 

Bach shallows will all be omitted: — 

' they 're like that graceful one 

Which, when thou 'rt dancing in the sun, 
Still near th'-e, leave* a charm upon 
Each spot whejre it hath flitted. 



142 



HAS SORROW THY YOUNG DAYS SHADED. 



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Simply and tenderly 



AEE— SLY PATRICK. 



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clouds o'er the morn-ing fleet? Too fast have those young days fad- ed, That 

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lias love to that soul, so tender, 

Been like a Lagenian mine,* 
Where sparkles of golden splendour 

All over the surface shine? 
T.iit, if in pursuit we go deeper, 

Allured by the gleam that shone, 
Ah! false as the dream of the sleeper, 

Like Love, the bright ore is gone. 



in. 

Has Hope, like the bird in the story, + 

That flitted from tree to tree 
With the talisman's glittering glory — 

lias Hope been that bird to thee? 
On branch after branch alighting, 

The gem did she still display, 
And, when nearest and most inviting, 

Then waft the fair gem away? 



rv. 

If thus the young hours have fleeted, 

"When sorrow itself look'd bright; 
If thus the fair hope hath cheated, 

That led thee along so light; 
If thus the cold world now wither 

Each feeling that once was dear: — 
Come, child of misfortune, come hither, 

I'll weep with thee, tear for toar. 



* Our Wicklow gold-mines, to which this verse alludes, deserve, 1 fear, the character here given of them. 

t "The bird, having got its prize, settled not tar oft", with the talisman in his mouth. The prince drew 
near it, hoping it would drop it; but, as ho approached, the bird took wing, and settled again,'' £c. — Arab'"* 
Mights, Story of Kumoiir al Zuminaun and the Princeia of China 



144 



LAY HIS SWORD BY HIS SIDE. 



With melancholy feding and incrgij. 



AIR— IF THE SEA WERE INK. 



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To the last mo - merit true, from his hand ere it 



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* It was W\t custom of the ancient Irish, in the manner of the Scythians, to bury the favourite swords 
of th<:ir heroea along w.Hh them. 



LAY HIS SWORD BY HIS SIDE. 



145 



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slumber in death, Side by side, as be -comes the re - pos - ing brave,— The sword which he 



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Yet pause — for, in fancy, a still voice I hear. 

As if breath'd from his brave heart's remains; — 
Faint echo of that which in Slavery's ear 

Once ROunde«l the war-word, "Burst your chains!" 
Anil it cries, from the grave where the Horo lies deep, 

"Tho* the day of your Chieftain for ever hath Bet, 
Oh leave not his sword thus in-glorious to tsleup, — 

It hath Victory's life in it yet. 



III. 

•'Should some alien, unworthy such weapon to wield, 

Mare to touch thee, my own gallant swonl. 
Then rest in thy sheath, like a talisman seal'd, 

Or return to the ^rave of thy chain mi lord. 
But. if grasp'd by a hand that hath known the bright use 

Of a falchion, like thee, on the battle plain, — 
Then, at Liberty's summons, like lightning let loose. 

Leap forth from thy dark sheath a.'aiu!" 



146 



WHEN FIRST I MET THEE. 

In moderate time. AIE— PATRICK, FLY FROM ME.* 

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* This very beautiful Irish air waa sent to me by a gentleman of Oxford. There is much Dathos in tho 
•risrii ind botb worda and music have all the features of authenticity. 



WHEN FIKST I MET THEE. 



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11. 

When every tongue thy follies named, 

I fled th' unwelcome story; 
Or found, in ev'n the faults they blamed, 

Some gleams of future glory. 
I still was true, when nearer friends 
.red to wrong, to slight thee; 
Th« heart, that now thy falsehood rends, 
Would then have bled to right thee. 
But go, deceiver! go, — 

Some day, perhaps, thou 'It waken 
From pleasure's dream, to know 
The grief of hearts for.-ake 11. 



IV. 



III. 
Ev'n now, though youth its bloom has shed. 

No lights of age adorn thee; 
The few, who loved thee once, have fled, 

And they who flatter scorn thee. 
Thy midnight cup is pledged to si 

No genial tics enwreath it; 
The smiling there, like light on grave.-, 
Has rank, cold hearts beneath it! 
Go— go— though worlds were thine, 

I would not now surrender 
One taintless tear of mine 
For all thy guilty splendour I 



And days may come, thou false one! yet, 

Wli.'ii ev'n those ties shall sever; 
1 thou wilt call, with vain regret. 

On her thou 'st lo^t fox erexl 
On her who, in thy fortune's fall. 

With smiles had still reoeire I 
And gladly died to prove thee all 

11 r fancy first bettered thee. 

Go go— 't is vain to nir-c, 
'T is weaJuMM to ephnud thee; 

Hate cannot wish thee 

Than guilt and sUauie ha\e made thee. 



143 



WHILE HISTORY'S MUSE. 



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af-ter whole pag-es of 


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sor-row and shame, She saw 


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His- to - ry write, With a 


pea-cil of 

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light, That il - lamed all the vol-ume, her "Wellington's name ! 




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•Tail, Star of my Isle!" said the Spirit, all sparkling 

With beams snch as break from her own dewy skies-* 
"Through ages of sorrow, deserted and darkling, 
I've watch'd for some glory like thine to arise. 
For though Heroes I've number'd, unblest was their lot, 
And unhallow'd they sleep in the cross-ways of Fame;— 
But oh ! there is not 
One dishonouring blot 
On the wreath that encircles my Wellington?! mime? 

III. 

•'Y<t still tho last crown of thy toils is remaining. 

The grandest, the purest, even thou hast yet knuvn; 
Though proud was thy ta-k, other nations unchaining, 

Far prouder to heal the deep wounds of thy own. 
At the foot of that throne for whose weal thou hast stood, 
Go, plead for the land that first cradled thy fame — 
And, bright o'er the flood 
Of her tears and her blood. 
Let the rainbow of DoM bo her Wellington's name I" 



150 



'T IS GONE, AND FOR EVER. 



With feeling. IS 
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left of its burning, But deep-en the long night of bondage and mourning, That dark 





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kingdoms of earth is re - turn-ing, And, dark-est of all, hap -less E 



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ii. 

For high was thy hope, when those glories were darting 
Around thee, through all the gross clouds of the world; 

When Truth, from her fetters indignantly starting, 
At once, like a sunburst, her banner nnfurl'd. 

Oh, never shall earth see a moment so splendid! 

Then, then, had one Hymn of Deliverance blended 

The tongues of all nations, how sweet had ascended 
The first note of Liberty, Erin ! from thee. 

m. 

But shame on those tyrants, who envied the blessing! 

And shame on the light race, unworthy its good, 
Who, at Death's reeking altar, like furies caressing 

The young hope of Freedom, baptised it in blood. 
Th n vanish'd for ever that fair, sunny vision, 
Which, spite of the slavish, tne cold heart's derision, 
Shall long be remember'd, pure, bright, and elysian. 

As first it arose, my lost Erin! on thoe. 



152 



OH ! WHERE'S THE SLAVE. 



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AIR-SIOS AGUS SI03 LIOM. 









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demn'd to chains uu - ho 



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II. 

Lo^s dear the laurel growing 
Alive, untouch'd, and blowing, 

Than that whose braid 

Is piuck'd to shade 
The brows with victory glowing. 
We tread the land that bore us, 
Her green flag glitters o'er us, 

The friends we've tried 

Are by our side, 
And the foe we hate before us. 
Farewell, Erin, — farewell, all 
Who live to weep ou»- fall. 



* The few bars wbich I bave bore taken tho liberty of connecting with this spirited Air, form one of 
tho?e melancholy strains of our Music, which are called Ijui>>i>s. i found it in a collection entitled "The Hiber- 
nian Muse," and wo aro told in tho Essay prefixed to that Work, that "it is said to have been sang by the Irish 
Women on the field of battle, after a terrible blauguter made by Cromwell's troops in Ireland." 



154 



Lively and spirited 



FILL THE BUMPER FAIR. 

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AIR-BOB AND JOAN. 



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FILL THE BUMPER FAIR. 



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Ev - >ry drop we sprin-kle O'er the brow of Care Smooths a - way a wrin - kle. 



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Sages can, they say, 

Grasp the lightning's pinions, 
And bring down its ray 

From the starr'd dominions: — 
So we, Sages, sit 

And 'mid bumpers brightening, 
From the heaven of Wit 

Draw down all its lightning. 
Fill the bumper, &c. 



IV 

The careless Youth, when up 

To Glory's fount aspiring, 
Took nor urn nor cup 

To hide the pilfer'd fire in. 
But oh, his joy I when, round 

The halls of heaven spying, 
Among the stars he found 

A bowl of Bacchus lying. 
Fill the bumper, &c. 



m. 

jPonldst thou know what first 

Made our souls inherit 
Hiis ennobling thirst 

For wine's celestial spirit? 
It chanced upon that day, 

When, as bards inform us, 
Prometheus stole away 

The living fires that warm us. 
Fill the bumper, &c. 



V. 

Some drops were in that bowl, 

Remains of last night's pleasure 
With which the Sparks of Soul 

Mix'd their burning treasure. 
Eence the goblet's shower 

Hath such spells to win us; 
Hence its mighty power 

O'er that flame within us. 
Fill the bumper, &c 



156 



AS SLOW OUR SHIP HER FOAMY TRACK. 



In moderate tiwu and tcith expression. 



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AIR-THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME. 

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leav - ing. So loath we part from all we love, From all the links that hind ns; So 



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turn our heart;?, where'er we rove, To those we've left be -hin<l usl 



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When, round the howl, of vanish'd years 

We talk, with joyous seeming, 
Anil smiles that might as well be tears. 

So faint, so sad their beaming; 
While memory brings us back again 

Each early tie that twined us, 
Oh sweet 's the cup that circles then 

To those we 've left behind us! 

IU. 
And, when in other climes we meet 

Some isle or vale enchanting, 
Whore all looks flowery, wild, and sweet. 

And nought but love is wanting; 
We think how great had been our bliss. 

If Heaven had but assign'd us 
To live and die in scenes like this, 

With some we 've left behind us! 



IV. 
As travelers oft look back, at eve, 

When eastward darkly going. 
To gaze upon that light they leave 

Still faint behind them glowing, — 
So, when the close of pleasure's day 

To gloom hath near consign'd us, 
We turn to catch one fading ray 

Of joy that 's left behind us. 



158 



IN THE MORNING OF LIFE. 

AIR— THE LITTLE HALVEST ROSE. 
In moderate time and with feeling. m^~~~~-*'£L»- +.Jtu 



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When we see the first charm of our youth pass us by, 

Like a leaf on the stream that will never return; 
When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high, 

Now tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn; 
Then, then is the moment affection can sway 

With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew; 
Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they, 

Bat the Love, born of Sorrow, like Sorrow is true! 



Ill 



In climes full of sunshine, though splendid their djes, 

Y. i faint is the odour the flowers shed about; 
'T is the clouds and tin- mists of our own weeping skies, 

That call their full spirit of fragr&ncy out. 
So the wild glow of passion may kindle from mirth, 

But t is only in grief true affection appears; — 
To the magic of Btnilea it may first owe its birth, 

But the soul of Its s« awn out by tears! 



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WREATH THE BOWL. 



Gaily and brilliantly. . 






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brightest Wit can find us; We'll take a flight Tow'rds heav'n to - night, And leave dnll earth be- 



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n. 

'T was nectar fed, 

Of old, 't is said, 
Their Junos, Joves, Apollos; 

And Man may brew 

His nectar too, 
The rich receipt's as follows: — 

Tate wine like this, 

Let looks of bliss 
Around it well be blended, 

Then bring Wit's beam 

To warm the stream, 
And there's your nectar, splendid ! 

So wreath the bowl, 4c. 



m. 

Say, why did Time 

His glass sublime 
Fill up with sands unsightly, 

When wine, he knew, 

Runs brisker through, 
And sparkles far more brightly. 

Oh, lend it as, 

And, smiling thus, 
The glass in two we'd sever. 

Make pleasure glide 

In double tide, 
Aud fill both ends for ever! 

Then wreath the bowl, io. 



11 



162 



I SAW FROM THE BEACH. 



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AIR-MISS MOLLY. 




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Ah! such is the fate of our life's early promise, 
So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; 

Each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs from us, 
And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone. 



m. 



Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning 
The close of our day, the calm eve of our night; — 

Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of Morning, 
Her clouds and her tears are worth Ev'ning's best light. 



IT. 

Oh! who would not welcome that moment's returning, 
When passion first waked a new life through his frame, 

And his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burning, 
Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame 1 



164 



WHEN COLD IN THE EARTH. 



Sloic and uith melancholy expression. 



AIR-LIMERICK'S LAMENTATION.' 

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• Our right to this fine Air (the "Lochabet" of the Scotch) will, I fear, be disputed; but, as it has boon 
long conn<> ted with Irish words, ami is confidently claimed for us by Mr. Bunting and others, 1 thought I should 
not be authorized in Letting it out of this collection. 



WHEN COLD IN TIIE EARTII. 



168 




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rose on his dark-ness, And guid-ed him home. 



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u. 

From thee and thy innocent beauty first came 

The revealings that taught hira trne Love to adore, 
To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame 

From the idols he darkly had knelt to before. 
O'.-r the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, 

Thou cam'st, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea; 
Aud if happiness purely and glowingly smiled 

On his ev'ning horizon, the light was from thee. 



ni. 

And though sometimes the shade of past folly would rise, 

And though falsehood again would allure him to stray, 
He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyeg, 

And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. 
As the Priests of the Sun, when their altar grew dim, 

At the day-beam alone could its lustre repair, 
So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him, 

He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it there I 



1 ifi 



TO LADIES' EYES. 



In moderate time and with spirit. 
Sta --------- 



AIR-FAGUE A BALLAGH. 






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bound, Boy, 'T is hard to choose, 't is hard to choose. For thick as stars that light - en Ton 



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air - y bow'rs, yon air - y bow'rs, The countless eyes that bright-en This earth of ours, this 



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earth of ours. Lut fill the cup, wher-e'er, Boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're 



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n. 

Some eyes there are, so holy, 

They seem hut giv'n, they seem hut giv'n, 
As splendid Deacons, solely, 

To light to heav'n, to light to heav'n 1 
"While some— oh! ne'er helieve them — 

With tempting ray, with tempting ray, 
Would lead us (God forgive them!) 

The other way, the other way. 
But fill the cup, fte. 

III. 
In some, as in a mirror, 

Love seems portray'd, Love seems portr ij-'d, 
But shun the flattering error, 

'T is but his shade, 't is but his shade. 
Himself has fix'd his dwelling 

In eyes we know, in eyes we know, 
And lips— but this is tolling, 

So here they go ! so here they go I 
Fill up, fill it, £c. 



16S 



FORGET NOT THE FIELD. 



Despondingly. 






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AIR-THE LAMENTATION OF AUGHR1M. 
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FORGET NOT THE FIELD. 



109 



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m. 

Could the chain for an instant be riven 
Which Tyranny flung round us then, 

Oh! 't is not in Man nor in Heav'n 
To let Tyrauny bind it again! 



IV. 

But 't is past— and though blazon'd in story 
The name of our Victor may be, 

Accurst is the march of that glory 
Which treads o'er the hearts of the free. 



Far dearer the gTave or the prison, 
Illumed by one patriot nunc, 

Than the trophies of all who have ri.-eu 
On Liberty's ruins to fame ! 



170 



THEY MAY RAIL AT THIS LIFE. 



With gaiety and feeling. 



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TIILY MAY RAIL AT THIS LIFE. 



171 



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Bay what they will of their orbs in the skies, But this earth is the pla - net for 




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In Mercury's star, where each minute can bring them 

New sunshine and wit from the fountain on high, 
Tho' the Nymphs may have livelier poets to sing them, 

They 've none, even there, more enamour'd than I. 
And, as long as this harp can he waken'd to love, 

And that eye its divine inspiration shall be, 
They may talk as they will of their Edens above, 

But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me. 

in. 

In that star of the west, by whose shadowy splendour, 

At twilight so often we 've roam'd through the dew, 
There are maidens, perhaps, who have bosoms as tender, 

And look, in their twilights, as lovely as you. 
But, though they were even more bright than the queen 

Of that isle they inhabit in heaven's blue sea, 
As 1 never these fair young celestials have seen, 

Why, — this earth is the planet for you, love, and me. 



IV. 

As for those chilly orbs on the verge of creation, 

Where sunshine and smiles must be equally | 
Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station, 

II ivcn knows, we have plenty on earth we could spare. 
Oh think what a world wc should have of it here, 

If the haters of peace, of affection, and glee, 
Were to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere, 

And leave earth to such spirit* as you, lore, and me. 



172 



Cheer fully. 



NE'ER ASK THE HOUR. 

AIR— MY HUSBAND'S A J6URNEY TO PORTUGAL GONE. 



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is it to us How Time deals out his treasures ? The gold-en mo-ments, lent us thus, Are 



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hey no wand hut Pleasure's ! 



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Young Joy ne'er thought of counting hours, 
Till Care, one summer's morning, 

Set up, among his smiling flowers, 
A dial, by way of warning. 

But Joy loved better to gaze on the sun, 
As long as its light was glowing, 



Than to watch with old Care how the shadow stole on t 

And how fast that light was going. 
So till the cup — what is it to us 

How Time his circle measures? 
The fairy hours we call up thus, 

Obey no wand but Pleasure's I 



174 



SAIL ON, SAIL ON. 



With mournful defiance. 



AIK-THE HUMMING OF THE BAN. 



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smil -ing bil - low seems to Bay — "Though death be - neath our sur-face be, Less 



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cold we are, less false than they, Whose smil - ing wreck'd thy hopes and thee! 1 



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ii. 

Sail on, sail on, through endless space, 

Through calm, through tempest, stop no more, 
The btormiost sea's a resting-place 

To him who leaves such hearts on shore. 
Or, if some desert land we meet, 

Where never yet false-hearted men 
Profaned a world, that else were sweet, 

Then rest thee, bark, but not till then. 



176 



THE PARALLEL. 

YES, SAD ONE OF ZION ! IF CLOSELY RESEMBLING. 

Mournfully. 



AIR— I WOUID RATHER THAN IRELAND. 



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♦ These verses were written after the perusal of a treatise by Mr. Hamilton, professing to prove that the 
Irish were originally Jews. 



THE PARALLEL. 



177 



t u=g $^t=jg =a ; , rj n-M-\-r^ | 



deep, of the same "cup of tremb - ling" Could make us thy chil-dren, oar 






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n. 

Like thee doth our nation lie conquer'd and broken, 
And fall'n from her head is the once royal crown ; 

In her streets, in her halls, Desolation hath spoken, 
And, "while it is day, yet her sun hath gone down.'* 

m. 

Like thine doth her exile, mid dreams of returning, 
Die far from the home it were life to behold; 

Like thine do her sons, in the day of their mournin?, 
Kemember the bright things that bless'd them of old! 

rv. 

Ah, well may we call her, like thee, "the Forsaken," 
Her boldest are vanquish'd, her proudest are slaves; 

And the harps of her minstrels, when gayest they waken, 
Hare breathings as sad as the wind over graves! 

V. 

Yet hadst thou thy vengeance— yet came there the morrow, 
That shines out, at last, on the longest dark night, 

When the sceptre, that smote thee with slavery and sorruf 
Was shivor'd at once, like a reed, in thy sight. 

VI. 

When that cup, which for others the proud Golden City 
Had brimm'd full of bitterness, drench'd her own lips, 

And the world she had trampled on heard, without pity, 
The howl in her halls and the cry from her ships. 

VII. 
When the curse Heaven keeps for the haughty came over, 

Her merchants rapacious, her ruleri unjust, 
Atfl — a ruin, at last, for the earth-worm to cover, — 

The Lady of Kingdoms lay low in the dust. 



12 



178 



Gaily. 



DRINK OF THIS CUP. 



AIR-PADDY O'KAFFERTY. 



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ii. 

Never was philter form'd with such power 

To charm and hewilder as this we arc quaffing; 
Its magic hegan when, in Autumn's rich hour, 

As a harvest of gold in the fields it stood laughing. 
There having, hy nature's enchantment, heen fill'd 

With the balm and the bloom of her kindliest weather, 
This wonderful juice from its core was distill'd, 

To enliven such hearts as are here brought together! 
Then drink of the cup— you Ml find there 's a spell in 

Its every drop 'gainst the ills of mortality: 
Talk of the cordial t hat sparkled for Hf.i.kn, 

Her cup was a fiction, but this is reality. 

III. 

And though, perhaps— but breathe it to no one — 

Like caldrons the witch brews at midnight so awful, 
In secret this philter was first taught to flow on, 

Yet— 't is n't less potent for being unlawful. 
What, though it may taste of the smoke of that flame, 

Which in silence extracted its virtue forhidden — 
Fill ii i> — there 's a lire in some hearts 1 could name, 

Which may work too its charm, though now lawless and hidden. 
So drink of the cup -for <di there 'a ■ spell in 

It- every drop ' n r .iinst the ill- of mortality: 
Talk of the cordial that sparkled for Bbun, 

l'er cup was a fiction, but this is reality. 



180 



OF ALL THE FAIR MONTHS, THAT ROUND THE SUN. 

SONG OF O'DONOHUE'S MISTRESS.* 

Smoothly and in moderate time. AIE— THE LITTLE AND GREAT MOUNTAIN. 




Of all the fair mounths that round the Sun In light 



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dance their cir - cles run, Sweet May, sweet May, shine thou for me, Sweet 




• The particulars of the tradition respecting O'Donohue and his White Horse may be found in Mr. Weld's Ac- 
count of Killarney, or, more fully detailed, in Derrick's Letters. For many years after his death, the spirit of this hero 
is supposed to have been seen, on the morning of May-day, gliding over the lake on his favourite white horse, to the 
sound of sweet unearthly music, and preceded by groups of youths and maidens, who flung wreaths of delicate spring- 
flowers in his path. Among other stories connected with this Legend of the Lakes, it is said that there was a young 
and beautiful girl, whose imagination was so impressed with the idea of this visionary chieftain, that she fancied her- 
self in love with him, and at last, in a fit of insanity, on a May-morning, threw herself into the Lake. 



OF ALL TIIK FAIIi MONTHS. THAT ROUND THE SUN. 



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rise, That Youth, who be-neaththe blue lake lies, Sweet May, Sweet May, re- 




n. 

Of all the bright haunts, where daylight leaves, 
Its lingering smile on golden eves, 

Fair Lake, fair Lake, thou 'rt dearest to me; 
For when the last April sun grows dim, 
Thy Naiads prepare his steed for bin 

Who dwells, who dwells, bright Lake, in thee. 

III. 

Of all the proud steeds, that ever bore 
Young plumed Chiefs on sea or shore, 

White Steed, white Steed, most joy to thee, 
till, with the iirst young glance of spring, 
From under that glorious lake dost bring 

My love, my love, my chief, to me. 



TV. 

While, white as the sail some bark unfurls, 
When newly launch'd, thy long mane' curls, 

Fair Steed, fair Steed, as white and free; 
And spirits, from all the lake's deep bowers, 
Glide o'er the blue wave scattering flowers, 

Fair Steed, around my lova and thee. 



Of all the sweet deaths that maidens die, 
Whose lovers beneath the cold wave lie. 

Most sweet, most sweet, that death will be. 
Which, under the n nine's light, 

Whon thou ami thy steed are lost to light, 

Dear love, dear love, I '11 die for thee. 



* The boatmen at Killarney call those waves which come on a windy day, crested with foam, 
white horses." 



'O'Donohue'g 



182 



ECHO. 

HOW SWEET THE ANSWER ECHO MAKES. 



In moderate time. 



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n. 

Yet Love hath echoes truer far, 

And far more sweet, 
Than e'er heneath the moonlight's star, 
Of horn, or lute, or soft guitar, 

The songs repeat. 

III. 

T is when the sigh, in youth sincere, 

And only then — 
The sigh, that 's breathed for one to hoar, 
Is hy that one, that only doar, 

Breathod luck again. 



1S4 



OH, BANQUET NOT IN THOSE SHINING BOWERS. 

In moderate time, ttith a careless melancholy. AIR— PLANXTY IRWINE. 



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There, while the myrtle's withering houghs 

Their lifeless leaves around us shed, 
We '11 hrim the howl to broken vows, 

To friends long lost, the changed, the dead I 
Or, as some blighted laurel waves 

Its branches o'er the dreary spot, 
We '11 drink to those neglected graves, 

Where Valour sleeps, unnamed, forgot 1 



156 



SHALL THE HARP THEN BE SILENT?* 



Solemnly but tcilh spirit, 
cspress. 



AIR-"MACFARLANE'S LAMENTATION. 









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SHALL THE HARP THEN BE SILENT? 



157 




II. 



What a union of all the affections and powers, 
By which life is exalted, emhellish'd, refined, 

Was embraced in that spirit — whose centre was onrs, 
While its mighty circumference circled mankind! 



VII. 



Who, that ever approach'd him, when, free from the crowd 
In a home full of love, he delighted to tread 

'Mong the trees which a nationhad given, and which bow'd, 
As if each brought a new civic crown for his head — 



III. 



Oh, who that loves Erin— or who that can see, 
Through the waste of her annals, that epoch sub- 
lime — 

Like a pyramid, raised in the desert— where he 
And his glory stand out to the eyes of all time!— 



VIII. 

That home, where— like him, who, as fable hath told,* 
Put the rays from his brow, that his child might come 
near— 

Every glory forgot, the most wise of the old 
Became all that the simplest and youngest hold dear I 



IV. 

That one lucid interval, snatrh'd from the gloom 
And the madness of ages, when, fill'd with 
soul, 

A Nation o'erleap'd the dark hounds of her doom, 
And, for one sacred instant, touch'd Liberty's goal! 



IX. 



Is there one, who hath thus, through his orbit of life, 
his But at distance observed him— through glory, through 

blame, 
In the calm of retreat, in the grandeur of strife, 
Whether shining or clouded, still high and the same — 



Who, that ever hath heard him— hath drunk at the souree 
Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own, 

In whose high-thoughted daring the fire, and the force, 
And the yet untamed spring of her spirit are shown — 



Such a union of all that enriches life's hour, 
Of the sweetness we love and the greatness we praise, 

As that type of simplicity blended with power, 
A child with a thunderbolt only portrays. — 



VI. 



XI. 



An eloquence rich — wheresoever its wave 

Wander'd free and triumphant — with thoughts that 
shone through, 
As clear as the brook's "stone of lustre," and gave, 

With the flash of the gem, its solidity too! 



Oh no— not a heart, that e'er knew him, but mourns. 
Deep, deep o'er the grave, where such glory 
shrined— 

O'er a monument Fame will preserve, 'mong the urns 
Of the wisest, the bravest, the best of mankind! 



jussit." 



Apollo, in his interview with PbaCton, as described by Ovid: — "Deposuit radios, propiiisque acctdtr* 



183 



THEE, THEE, ONLY THEE! 

THE DAWNING OF MORN. 

With melancholy expression. AIR— STACA AN MHARAGA (THE MARKET-STAKE). 



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Whatever in fame's high path could waken 
My spirit once is now forsaken 
For thee, thee, only thee. 
Like shores by which some headlong bark 

To the ocean hurries, resting never, 
Life's scenes go by me, bright or dark 
I know not, heed not, hastening ever 
To thee, thee, only thee. 



III. 



I have not a joy but of thy bringing, 

And pain itself seems sweet when springing 

From thee, thee, only thee. 
Like spells that nought on earth can break, 

Till lips that know the charm haye spoken 
This heart, howe'er the world may wake 
Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken 
By thee, thee, only thee. 



190 



REMEMBER THEE 



Kot too slow, and uith strong feeling. 



AIR— CASTLE TIROWEN. 



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Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free. 
First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea, 
I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, 
But oh! could I love thee inoore deeply than now? 



III. 



No, thy chains as they rankle, thy blood as it runs, 
But make thee more painfully dear to thy sons — 
Whose hearts, like the young of the desert bird's nost, 
Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy breast. 



192 



MY GENTLE HARP ONCE MORE I WAKEN. 

With feeling. ,_ AIR— THE COINA OB DIRGE 



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My gen-tle Harp ! once more I wa-ken The sweet-ness of thy slumb'ring 

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And yet, since last thy chord resounded, 

An hour of peace and triumph came, 
And many an ardent bosom bounded 

"With hopes — that now are turn'd to shame. 
Yet even then, while peace was singing 

Her halcyon song o'er land and sea, 
Tlio' joy and hope to others bringing, 

She only brought new tears to thee. 

in. 

Then, who can ask for notes of pleasure, 

My drooping Harp, from chords like thine? 
Alas, the lark's gay morning measure 

As ill would suit the swan's decline! 
Or how shall I, who love, who bless thee, 

Invoke thy breath for Freedom's strains, 
When ev'n the wreaths in which I dress thee 

Are sadly mix'd — half flow'rs, half chains? 

IV. 

But come — if yet thy frame can borrow 
One breath of joy, oh, breathe for me, 

And show the world, in chains and sorrow, 
Hon sweet thy music still can be; 

How gaily, ev'n '""id gloom surrounding, 
Then yet canst wake at pleasure's thrill — 

. ke Bferanon's broken ima^e sounding, 
Mid desolation tuneful still. 



13 



194 



WHENE'ER I SEE THOSE SMILING EYES. 

Slotc and tenderly. 



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For time will come with all its blights, 

The ruin'd hope, the friend unkind, 
And love, that leaves, where'er it lights, 

A chill'd or burning heart behind: — 
While youth, that now like snow appear!, 

Ere sullied by the dark'ning rain, 
When once 't is touch'd by sorrow's tears 

Will never shine so bright tfaln. 



196 



IF THOU'LT BE MINE. 



Flowing and simple. 



AIR-THE "WINNOWING SHEET. 



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Bright flowers shall hloom wherever we rovo, 
A voice divine shall talk in each stream, 

The stars shall look like worlds of love, 
And this earth he all one heautiful dream 
In our eyes— if thou wilt he mine, love! 

III. 

And thoughts whose source is hidden and high, 
Like streams that come from heaven-ward hills. 

Shall keep our bearts, like meads that lie 
To be bath'd by those eternal rills, 

Ever green, if thou wilt be mine, love! 



IV. 

All this and more the Spirit of Love 

Can breathe o'er them who feel his spells; 

Tliit heaven which forms his home above, 
He can make on earth, wherever he dwells, 
As thou 'It own, if thou wilt be mine, love I 



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Oil FOR THE SWORDS OF FORMER TIME 

(n moderate time and with spirit. AIR— NAM1 VN. 



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Oh for the swords of for-mer time ! Oh for the men who hore tbem, When, 

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n. 

Oh for the Kings who flourish' . 

Oh for the pomp that crown'd ti • 
When hearts and hands of freeborn m 
.til the ramparta round the: : 
When, safe built on bosoms true, 
but the centre, 
Rn„ id which Li. vi> a cirvlf d 

'U foi tin. 8 I 0U1 i-h'ti then ! 

ub for the pom-i 1 them. 

When hearts «ud hands 
Were ail 0\e ramparts .oand themi 



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DOWN IN TEE VALLEY, COME MEET ME TO-NIGHT. 

THE FORTUNE-TELLER. 



Significantly and in moderate time. 



AIR-OPEN TIIE DOOR SOFTLY. 



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DOWN in MB VALLEY, COMB MEET ME TO NIGHT. 



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n. 

But, for the world, let no one be nigh, 
Lest haply the stars should deceive me; 

Such secrets between you and me and the shy 
Should never go farther, believe me. 

III. 
If at that hour the heav'ns bo not dim, 

My science .shall call up before you 
A !e apparition — the image of him 

Wl'Oie (let tiny 't is to adore you. 



IY. 
And if to that phantom you '11 be kind, 

So fondly around you ho '11 hover, 
You '11 hardly, my dear, any difference find 

'Twixt him and a true lhing lover. 

V. 
Down at your fret, in the pale moonlight, 

He Ml kneel, with a warmth of devotion — 
An ardour, of which each an innocent sprite 

You 'd scarcely believe had a notion. 



VI. 



What other thought! end events m.iy arise, 
Aa in ok l We not seen them, 

Knat only bo left to the | ur eye* 

-ettlo, ere morning, between them. 



202 



On, YE DEAD! 



Mournfully. 



AIB— PLOUGH TUNE. 




Oh, ye 



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It is true, it is true, we are shadows cold and wan; 
And the f.iir and the brave whom we lov'd on earth ■ 

But .-till, thus ev'n in death, 

So sweet the living breath 
l>r the fields and the flow'rs in our youth we wander'd i 

That ere, condemn'd, we go 

To freeze 'mid IK. la's snow, 
We would tasto it awhile, and think we live once more! 



204 



Triumphantly. 



Oil, TTIE SIGHT ENTRANCING. 



AIR-PLANXTY SUDLEY. 



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Yet, 't is not helm or feather — 
For ask yon despot, whether 

His plumod bands 

Could bring such hands 
And hearts as curs together. 
Leave pomps to those who need 'eiii — 
Give man but heart and freedom, 

And proud he braves 

The gaudiest slaves 
That crawl where mOHATCb.1 l<-:ul 'im. 



The sword may pierce the beaver, 
Stone walls in time may sever, 

'T is mind alone, 

Worth steel and stone, 
That keeps men free for ever. 
Oh that sight entrancing, 
When the morning's beam is glancing: 

O'er files array'd 

With helm and blade, 
' id in Freedom's cause advancing! 



SWEET INNISFALLEN. 



207 



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AIR-TIIE CAPTIVATING YOUTH. 




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Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well, 

And oft may Light around thee smilo, 
Am toft as on that ev'ning fell, 

When first I saw thy fairy isle! 
III. 
Thou wert too lovely then for one 

Who had to turn to paths of care — 
Who had through vulgar crowds to run, 

And leave thee bright and silent thor. 
IV. 
Ro more along thy shores to come, 

But, on the world's dim ocean tost, 
Dream of thee .sometimes, as a home 

Of sunshine he had seen and lost! 
V. 
Far better in thy weeping hours 

To part from thee, as I do now, 
When Bill La o'er thy blooming bowers, 

Like sorrow's veil on beauty's brow. 



For, though unrivall'd still thy grace, 

Thou dost not look, as then, too 1 
Bat, in thy shadows, Beetn'at a place 
Where weary man might hope to rest — 
VII. 
Might hope to rest, and find in thee 

A gloom like Kden's, on the day 
He left its shade, when every tree. 
Like thine, hung weeping o'er his way! 
V11I. 
Weeping or smiling, lovely isle! 

And still the lovelier foi thy tears — 
For though hut rare thy sunny smile, 
'T is Heaven's own glance, when it 
IX. 
' feeling hearts, whose joys are few, 

I it. when in&ttd thej come, dirin< — 

neediest light the sun e'er threw 
1 1 f'less to one gleam of thine' 



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FROM THIS HOUR THE PLEDGE IS GIVEN. 

With sjiirit attd feeling. AIR-KENARDINE. 



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Tho' the sea, where thou embarkest, 

OflFers now no friendly shore, 
Light may come where all looks darkest, 

Hope hath life, when life seems o'er. 
And of those past ages dreaming, 

When glory deck'd thy brow, 
Oft I fondly think, though seeming 

So fall'n and clouded now, 
Thou 'It again break forth, all beaming, - 
Nono so bright, so blest as thou. 



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T WAS ONE OF THOSE DREAMS. 

Wtfn jeeung, but not too slow. AIR-THE SONG OF THE WOODS 



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The wild notes he heard o'er the water were those 
To which ho had snng Erin's bondage and woes, 
And the breath of the bugle now wafted them o'er 
From Dinis' green isle to Glena's wooded shore. 

m. 

He listen'd— while, high o'er the eagle's rude nest, 

The lingering sounds on their way loved to rest; 

And the echoes sung back from their full mountain quire 

As if loth to let song so enchanting expire. 

VI. 
"Even so, though thy memory should now die away, 
'T will be caught up again in some happier day, 
And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong. 
Through the answering Future, thy name and thy «nng| 



It seem'd as if every sweet note, that died here, 
Was again brought to life in some airier sphere. 
Some heaven in those hills, where the soul of the strala 
That had ceased upon earth was awaking again! 

V. 

Oh forgive, if, while listening to music, whose bre.ith 
Seem'd to circle his name with a charm against death, 
He should feel a proud Spirit within him proclaim, 
"Even so Bhalt thou live in the echoes of Fame: 



212 



QUICK! WE HAVE BUT A SECOND. 



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quick! we have but a second. 



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Bee the glass, how it flushes, 

Like some young Hebe's lip, 
And half meets thine, and blushes 

That thou should'st delay to sip. 
Shame, O shame unto thee, 

If ever thou see'st that day, 
When a cup or lip shall woo the«\ 

And turn untouch'd away! 
Then quick! we have but a secon-l. 

Fill round, fill round, while you may, 
For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd. 

And we must away,— away I 



214 



Mournfully. 



THE DREAM OF THOSE DAYS.* 

AIR— I LOVE YOU ABOVE ALL THE REST. 



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♦ Written in one of those moods of hopelessness and disgnst which come occasionally over the mind, in 
Contemplating the present state of Irish patriotism. 



THE DREAM OF TIIOSE DAYS. 



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Say, is it that slavery snnk so deep in thy heart, 
That still the dark hrand is there, though chainless thou art; 
And Freedom's sweet fruit, for which thy spirit long burn'd. 
Now, reaching at last thy lip, to ashes hath turn'd. 



in. 

Up Liberty's steep by Truth and Eloquence led, 
With eyes on her temple flx'd, how proud was thy trea 1 ! 
Ah, better thou ne'er hadst liv<>d that summit to tf.iin. 
Or died in the porch, th;m thu> dishonour the fane. 



316 



SING, SWEET HARP, OH SING TO ME. 



AIR-UNKNOWN. 



With mournful expression. 



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SING, SWEET TTARP, Oil SING TO ME. 



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How mournfully the midnight air 

Among thy chords doth sigh, 
As if it sought some echo there 

Of voices long gone by; — 
Of Chieftains, now forgot, who heam'd 

The foremost then in fame; 
Of Bards who, once immortal deem'd, 

Now sleep without a name. — 
In vain, sad Harp, the midnight air 

Among thy chords doth sigh; 
In vain it socks an echo thorn 

Of voices long gone by. 



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Could'st thou but call those spirits round 

Who once, in bower and hall, 
Sate list'ning to thy magic sound, — 

Now mute and mould'ring all. 
But, no— they would but wake to weep 

Their children's slavery; — 
Then leavo them in their dreamless sleep. 

The Dead, at least, are free. — 
Ohl hush, sad Harp, that dreary tone, 

That knell of Freedom's day, 
Or, list'ning to its deathlike uioan. 

Let me, too, die away 



218 



FAIREST! PUT ON AWHILE. 



In moderate time. 



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bring thee, And o'er thine own green isle In fan - cy let me wing thee. 



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Fields, where the spring delays, 

And fearlessly meets the ardour 
Of the warm Summer's gaze, 

With only her tears to guard her. 
Eocks, through myrtle honghs 

In grace majestic frowning; 
Like some hold warrior's brows 

That Love hath just been crowning. 



rv. 

Lakes, where the pearl lies hid, 

And caves, where the gem is sleeping. 
Bright as the tears thy lid 

Lets fall in lonely weeping. 
Glens, where Ocean comes, 

To 'scape the wild wind's rancour, 
And harbours, worthiest homes 

Where Freedom's fleet can anchor. 



in. 

Islets, so freshly fair, 

That never hath bird come nigh them, 
But from his course thro' air 

He hath been won down by them. — 
Types, sweet maid, of thee, 

Whose look, whose blush inviting, 
Never did Love yet see 

From heav'n, without alighting. 



Then, if, while scenes so grand. 

So beautiful, shine before thee. 
Pride for thy own dear land 

Should haply be stealing o'er thee, 
Oh, lot grief corao first, 

O'er pride itself victorious — 
Thinking how man hath curst 

What Heaven had made so elorii cd. 



220 



AND DOTH NOT A MEETING LIKE THIS. 

In moderate time and with feeling. AIR— UNKNOWN. 



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And doth not a meet - ing like this make a - mends For all the long years Pve been 




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AND DOTH NOT A MEETING LIKE TIIIS. 



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Alps in the sun - set, thus light-ed by wine, We '11 wear the gay tinge of Youth's 



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n. 

What soften'd remembrances come o'er the heart, 

In gazing on those we 've been lost to so long! 
The sorrows, the joys, of which once they were part, 

Still ronnd them, like visions of yesterday, throng. 
As letters some hand hath invisibly trac'd, 

When held to tbe flame will steal ont on the sight, 
So many a feeling, that long seem'd effac'd, 

The warmth of a moment like this brings to light. 



IV. 

So brief onr existence, a glimpse, at the most, 

Is all we can have of the few we hold dear; 
And oft even joy is unheeded and lost, 

For want of some heart, that could echo it, near. 
Ah, well may we hope, when this short life is gone, 

To meet in some world of more permanent bliss; 
For a smile, or a grasp of the hand, hastening on, 

Is all we enjoy of each other in this. 



m. 

And thus, as in memory's bark, we shall glide 

To visit the scenes of our boyhood anew, 
Tho' oft we may see, looking down on the tide, 

The wreck of full many a hope shining through \ 
Ynt still, as in fancy we point to the flowers 

That once made a garden of all the gay shore, 
Ijeceiv'd for a moment, we '11 think them still ours, 

And breathe the fresh air of life's morning once more. 



But, come, the more rare such delights to the heart, 

The more we should welcome and bless them the more. 
They 're ours, when we meet,— they are lost when we part, 

Like birds that bring summer and fly when 't is o'er. 
Thus circling the cup, hand in hand, ere we drink, 

Let Sympathy pledge us, thro' pleasure, thro' pain, 
That, fast as a feeling but touches one link, 

Her magic shall send it direct thro' the chain. 



223 



SING— SING— MUSIC WAS GIVEN. 



Flotcingly. 



AIR— THE HUMOURS OF BALLAMAGUIRY; OB, THE OLD LANGOLEE. 



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boast of her eyes and her cheeks, But Love from the lips his true ar - che-ry wings; And 



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When Love, rock'd by his mother, 

Lay sleeping, as calm as slumber could make him, 
"Hush, hush,'' said Venus, "no other 

"Sweet voice but his own is worthy to wake him.' 
Dreaming of music he slumber'd the while, 

Till faint from his lip a soft melody broke, 
And Venus, enchanted, look'd on with a smile, 
While Love to his own sweet singing awoke. 
Then sing— sing— Music was given 

To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; 
Souls here, like planets in heaven, 
By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. 



15 



226 



THE MOUNTAIN SPBITE. 

IN YONDER VALLEY THERE DWELT, ALONE. 



In moderate time and playftUly. 



AIR—THE MOUNTAIN SPRITE. 



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II. 

As once, by moonlight, he wander'd o'er 
The golden sands of that island shore, 
A foot-print sparkled before his sight — 
'T was the fairy foot of the Mountain Sprite ! 

III. 

Beside a fountain, one sunny day, 

As bending over the stream he lay, 

There peep'd down o'er him two eyes of light, 

And he saw in that mirror, the Mountain Sprite. 

IV. 

Ho turn'd — but, lo, like a startled bird, 

That spirit fled — and the youth but heard 

Sweet music, such as marks the flight 

Of some bird of song, from the Mountain Bprito. 



One night, still haunted by that blight look, 

The boy, bewilder'd, his pencil took, 

And, guided only by memory's light, 

Drew the once-seen form of the Mountain Sprite. 

VI. 

"Oh thou, who lovest the shadow," cried 

A voice, low whisp'ring by his side, 

•'Now turn and see," — here the youth's delight 

Seal'd the rosy lips of the Mountain Sprite. 

VII. 
"Of all the Spirits of land and sea,* 
Then rapt he niurmur'd, "there's none like theo, 
"An.l oft, Oh Oft, may thy foot thus light 
"'u this lonely bower, sweet Mountain Sprite!" 



223 



AS VANQUISH'D ERIN. 



With (Xi>ression. 



AIR-THE BOYNE WATER. 



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n. 

But vain her wish, her weeping vain, — 

As Time too well hath taught her — 
Each year the Fiend returns again, 

And dives into that water; 
And brings, triumphant, from beneath 

His shafts of desolation, 
And Bends them, wing'd with worse than death, 

Through all her madd'ning nation. 



III. 

Al.is for her who sits and mourns, 

Ev'n now, beside that river — 
Unwearied still the Fiend returns. 

And stoi'd is still his quiver. 
"When will this end, ye Powers of Good?' 

She weeping aslts for ever; 
But only hears, from out that flood, 

The Demon answer, "Never!'' 



230 



DESMOND'S SONG.* 

BY THE FEAL'S WAVE BENIGHTED. 



Tenderly. 



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• "Thomas, the heil of the Desmond family, had accidentally been so engaged in the chase, that ho was 
tenighted near Tralee, and obliged to take shelter at the Abbey of Feal , in the house of one of his dependents, 
Called tfac Cormae. Catherine, a beautiful daughter of his host, instantly inspired the Earl with a violent passion, 
which he could not subdue. He married her, and by this inferior alliance alienated his followers, whoso brutal 
pride regarded this Indulgence of bil lore as an unpardonable degradation of his family." — Lblavd. vol. ii. 

+ The Air has been already so successfully supplied with words by Mr. Bayly, that 1 should have left it 
untouched, if we could have spared so interesting a melody out of our collection. 



DESMOKD'fl - 



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II. 

Love came, and brought sorrow 

Too soon in his train; 
Yet so sweet, that to-morrow 

'T were welcome again. 
Though misery's full measure 

My portion should he, 
I would drain it with pleasure, 

If pour'd out by thoe. 



111. 



You, who call it dishonour 

To how to this flame. 
If you 've eyes, look but on her. 

And blush while you blame. 
Hath the pearl less whiteness 

Because of its birth? 
Hath the violet less brightueao 

For growing near earth? 



IV. 



No— Man for his glory 

To ancestry flies ; 
But Woman*! bright story 

Is told in her eyes. 
While the Monarch but trao>t 

Thro' mortals i>i- line, 

Beauty, born of the Graces, 
Ranks next to Divine 1 



132 



THEY KNOW NOT MY HEART. 



AIR— COOU'N DAS. 



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No — beaming with light as those young feature 
There 's a light round thy heart which is Ioy< 
It is not thai cheek — H is the soul dawning clear 
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AIR-I WISH I WAS ON YONDER HILL. 



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II. 

The lifeless sky, the mournful sound 

Of unseen waters, falling round— 

The dry leaves quiv'ring o'er my head, 

Like man, unquiet ev'n when dead — 

These, ay, these should wean 

My soul from life's deluding scene, 

And turn each thought, each wish I have, 

Like willows, downward tow'rds the gTave. 



III. 

As they, who to their couch at night 
Would welcome sleep, first quench the light, 
So must the hopes, that keep this breast 
Awake, be quench'd, ere it can rest. 
Cold, cold, my heart must grow, 
Unchanged by either joy or woe, 
Like freezing fount*, where all that's throw* 
Within their current turns to stone. 



236 



SHE SUNG OF LOVE. 



With expression. 



AIR-TIIE MUNSTER MAN. 



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But soon the West no longer bnrn'd, 

Each rosy ray from heav'n withdrew; 
And when to gaze again I turn'd, 

The minstrel's form seem'd fading too. 
As if her light and heaven's were one, 

The glory all had left that frame ; 
And from her glimmering lips the tone, 

As from a parting spirit, came. 

III. 
Who ever lov'd, hut had the thought 

That he and all he lov'd must part? 
FiU'd with this fear, I flew and caught 

The failing imago to my heart — 
And cried, "Oh Love! is this thy doom? 

"Oh light of youth's resplendent dayl 
Must ye then lose your golden bloom, 

"And thus, like sunshine, die away?" 



238 



THOUGH HUMBLE THE BANQUET. 

In moderate time and uith spirit. AIR— FAREWELL, EAMON. 




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And though Fortune may seem to have turn'd from the dwelling 

Of him thou regardest her favouring ray, 
Thou wilt find there a gift, all her treasures excelling, 

Which, proudly he feels, hath ennobled his way. 

III. 
*T is that freedom of mind which no vulgar dominion 

Can turn from the path a pure conscience approves; 
Which, with hope in the heart, and no chain on the pinion. 

Holds upwards its course to the light which it loves. 

IV. 

*T is this mates the pride of his humble retreat, 
And, with this, though of all other treasures bereav'd, 

The breeze of his garden to him is more sweet 
Than the costliest incense that Pomp e'er receiv'd. 



Then, come,— if a board so untempting hath power 
To win thee from grandeur, its best shall be thine; 

And there 's one, long the light of the bard's happy bower, 
Who, smiling, will blend her bright welcome with mine. 



240 



SOXG OF THE BATTLE-EVE. 

TO-MORROW, COMRADE, WE. 



With martial and melancholy spirit, not too slow. 



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SONG OP THE BATTLE-EVE. 



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n. 

'T is true, in manliest eyes 
A passing tear will rise, 

When we think of the friends we leave lone; 
But what can wailing do? 
See, our goblet 's weeping too! 

With its tears we '11 chase away our own, boy, our own ; 

With its tears we '11 chase away our own. 



m. 

But daylignt 's stealing on; — 
The last that o'er us shone 

Saw our children around us play; 
The next— ah! where shall we 
And those rosy urchins be? 

But— no matter— grasp thy sword and away, boy, «iw»jf 

No matter— grasp thy sword and away ! 



IV. 

Let those who brook the chain 
Of Saxon or of Dane 

Ignobly by their fire-sides stay; 
One sigh to home be given, 
One heartfelt prayer to heaven, 

Then, for Erin and her cause, boy, hurra ! hurra ! hurral 

Then, for Erin and her cause, hurra! 



242 



THE WANDEBIKG BAED. 

WHAT LIFE LIKE THAT OF THE BAUD CAN BE. 



With xivacity and expression. 



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Oh, what would have been young Beauty's doom, 

Without a bard to fix her bloom? 

They tell us, in the moon's bright round, 

Things lost in this dark world are found ; 

So charms, on earth long pass'd and gone, 

In the poet's lay live on.— 

Would ye have smiles that ne'er grow dim? 

You 've only to give them all to him, 

Who, with but a touch of Fancy's wand, 

Can lend them life, this life beyond, 

And fix them high, in Poesy's sky,— 

Young stars that never die. 



m. 

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For, though he hath countless airy homes, 
To which his wing excursive roves, 
Yet still, frcm time to time he loves 
To light upon earth and find such cheer 
As brightens our banquet here. 
No matter how far, how fleet he flies, 
You 've only to light up kind young eyes, 
Such signal-fires as here are giv'n, — 
And down he '11 drop from Fancy's heaven. 
The minute such call to love or mirth 
Proclaims he 's wanting on earth. 



24 i 



ALONE IN CROWDS TO WANDER ON. 



'nlly. 



AIR-SHULE AEOON. 



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Their smiles to others all belong, 

And want that charm which dwells alone 

Round those the fond heart calls its own. 

Where, where the sunny brow? 

The long-known voice — where are they now? 

Thus ask I still, nor ask in vain, 

The silence answers all too plain. 



III. 



Oh what is Fancy's magic worth, 

If all her heart cannot call forth 

One bliss like those we felt of old 

From lips now mute, and eyes now coldl 

.— hfr spoil is vain,— 
As soon could she bring back aeain 

m cut the grave, 
As wake again one bliss tiny gave. 



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TVE A SECRET TO TELL THEE. 



In moderate time, and 

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AIR— OH SOUTHERN BREEZE. 


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II. 

There, 'mid the deep silence of that hour 

When stars can be heard in ocean dip, 
Thyself shall, under some rosy bower. 

Sit mute, with thy finger on thy lip: 
Like him, the boy, who born am. mil' 

The flowers that on the Nile-stream blush, 
r thus, — his only song 

To earth and heaven. "ilu-h, all, hu>hl" 



24S 



SONG OF DsMSFAIL. 

THEY CAME FROM A LAND BEYOND THE SEA. 

In moderate time, and flouingly. AIR-PEGGY BAWH. 



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And, lo, where afar o'er ocean Bhines 

A sparkle of radiant green, 
As though in that deep lay emerald mines, 

Whose light thro' the wave was seen. 
♦"Tis Innisfailf — 'tis Innisfail!" 

Rings o'er the echoing sea, 
While, bending to heav'n, the warrior.- hail 

That home of the brave and free. 



m. 

Then turn'd they unto the Eastern ware, 

Where now their Day-God's eye 
A look of such sunny omen gave 

As lighted up sea and Bky. 
Nor frown was seen through sky or m-a, 

Nor tear o'er leaf or sod, 
When first on their Isle of Destiny 

Our great forefathers trod. 



* Milesins remembered the remarkable prediction of the principal Druid, who foretold that the posterity 
of Gadelns should obtain the possession of i Western Island (which was Ireland), and there Inhabit." — Km 
f The Island of Destiny, one of the ancient names ol Ireland. 



250 



THE NIGHT -DANCE. 



STRIKE THE GAY HARP! SEE THE MOON IS ON HlGn. 



1T*i7/i livtlinats and spirit. 



AIR- THE NIGHTCAP. 



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II. 

Why thpn delay, with such sounds in onr ears, 
And the flower of Beauty's own garden before us, — 

>Vliilf stars overhead leave the song of their spi. 
And, li.-t'ning to ours, hang wondering o'er us? 

Again, that strain! — to heir it thus sounding 
Might set even Death's cold pulses bounding — 

in I Again I 
Oh, what delight when the youthful and gay, 

Bach with eye like a sunbeam and foot 1 1 k .-* a feather, 
Thus dance, like the hours to the mnsio of M i>. 

And mingle sweet song and sunshine together! 



252 



OH! ARRANMORE, LOVED ARRANMORE. 



Jlodcvatdy slow, and with expression. 

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of those days when, by thy shore, I wand-er'd young and free. 



Full ma-ny a path I've 



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II. 

How blithe upon thy breezy cliffs 

At sunny morn I've stood, 
With heart as bounding as the stiffs 

That danc'd along thy flood; 
Or, when the western wave grew bright 

With daylight's parting wing, 
Have sought that Eden in its light 

Which dreaming poets sing;* — 

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That Eden, where th' immortal bravo 

Dwell in a land serene, — 
Whose bowers beyond the shining wave, 

At sunset, oft are seen. 
Ah dream too full of sadd'uing truth! 

Those mansions o'er the main 
Are like the hopes I built in youth, — 

As sunny and as vain! 



• "The inhabitant oT Arranmore are still persuaded that, in a cl ear day, they can see tram th. a -« ^ h. 

Brysail or the Enchanted '.land, the Paradi f the Pa»D Irish, and Concerning whVh they el U I nZZ \ ? 

romantic stories." — B*au ort'n Ancient Topography of Inland. * ine/ reUte d nu »'^T of 



354 



THERE ARE SOUNDS OF MIRTH. 



With litcliness and spirit, but not too fast. 



AIR-THE PRIEST IN HIS BOOTS. 




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THERE ARE SOUNDS OF MIRTH. 



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H. 

And see — the lamps still livelier glitter, 

The siren lips more fondly sound; 
No, seek, ye nymphs, some victim fitter 

To sink in your rosy bondage bound. 
Sh ill a hard whom not the world in arms 

Could bend to tyranny's rude control, 
Thus quail at sight of woman's charms, 

And yield to a smile his freeborn soul? 



in. 

Thus sung the sage, while, slyly stealing, 

The nymphs their fetters around him cast, 
And, — their laughing eyes, the while, concealing, — 

Led Freedom's Bard their slave at last. 
For the Poet's heart, still prone to loviug, 

t7m like that rock of the Druid race, 
Which the gentlest touch at once set moving, 

Hut all earth's power could n't cast frum its baso. 



256 



YOU REMEMBER ELLEN. 



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our hamlet's pride, How meek-ly she bles.s'd her 

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England. 



This ballad was suggested by a well-known and interesting story, told of a certain Noble Family in 



YOU RK MEMBER ELLEN. 



257 



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n. 

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Nor mnch was the maiden's heart at ease, 
When now, at close of one stormy day, 

They see a prond castle among the trees. 
"To-night," said the yonth, "we '11 shelter there; 

"The wind hlows cold, the honr is late:" 
So he blew the horn with a chieftain's air, 

And the Porter bow'd as they pass'd the gate. 

III. 

•'Now, welcome, Lady ! " exclaim'd the yonth, 

"This castle is thine, and these dark woods all! 1 
She believ'd him craz'd, hut his words were truth, 

For Ellen is Lady of Rosna Hall! 
And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves 

What William the stranger woo'd and wed; 
And the light of bliss, in these lordly groves, 

Shines pure as it did in the lowly shed. 



258 



THE WINE-CUP IS CIRCLING. 



In march time, and icith spirit. 



AIR-MICHAEL HOY. 



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• The Palace of Finn Mac-Cumhal (tlio Fingal of Macpherson) in Leinster. It was huilt on the top of the 
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1'nii, were the celebrated National Militia of Ireland, which this Chief commanded. The introduction of U'9 
Danes in the above song is an anachronism common to most of the Finian and Ossianic legends. 



Tin: wine-cup is circling. 



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ii. 

The minstrels have seiz'd their harps of gold, 

And they sing such thrilling numbers, — 
'T is like the voice of the Brave, of old. 
Breaking forth from their place of slumbers I 
Spear to buckler rang 
As the minstrels sang, 
And the Sun-burst o'er them floated wide; 
While rememb'ring the yoke 
Which their father-; broke, 
"On for liberty, fur liberty ! " the Finians cried. 

III. 

Like clouds of the night the Northmen came, 

O'er the valley of Almhin lowering; 
While onward niov'd, in the light of its fame, 
Tlia* banner of Erin, towering. 
With the mingling shock 
Rung cliff and rock, 
While, rank on rank, the invaders die: 
Ami t h<> shout that last 

the dying paas'd 
Was "Victory! victory 1''— the Viniaa'a cry. 



260 



SILENCE IS IN OUR FESTAL HALLS. 

AIB-T HE GREEN W OODS OF TRUIGHA. 
With melancholy feeling. 



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fes - tal halls,* Oh! Son of Song, thy course is o'er; 



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* It is hardly necessary, perhaps, to inform the reader that those linos are meant as a tribute of sincere 
friendship to the memory of an old and valued colleague in this work, Sir John Stevenson. 



SILENCE IS IN OUR FESTAL HALLS. 



261 



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m. 

But, where is now the cheerful day, 

The social night, when, by thy side, 
He who now weaves this parting lay 

His skilless voice with thine allied; 
And sung those songs whose every tone, 

When bard and minstrel long have past, 
Shall still, in sweetness all their own, 

Embalm'd by fame, undying last. 



II. 

Yet at our feasts, thy spirit long, 

Awak'd by music's spell, shall rise; 
For name bo link'd with deathless song 

Partakes its charm and never dies: 
And ev'n within the holy fane, 

When music wafts the soul to heaven, 
One thought to him, whose earliest strain 

Was ecbe'd there, shall long be given. 



IV. 
Yes, Erin, thine alone the fame, — 

Or, if thy bard have shar'd the crown, 
From thee the borrow'd glory came, 

And at thy feet is now laid down. 
Enough, if Freedom still inspire 

His latest song, and still there be, 
is evening closes round his lyre, 

One ray upon its chorda from thee. 



H 



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A SlLFCTION 

QILL SON'S PUBLI 



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s best iiumi 

I F. O'Jl* 
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»o. Smalt 4to. 262 papea of music, i 
•ather, extr« gilt-aide und back, and 



e - u 1 urch History. By the Rev. John 

v . addi -i», from the ninth and laat German Edit.on. by the Rev. 

,.,'. Wi:h Lhr .nolo^i.-al TnMefc and Eccle»UiUco-Gei»i ' 
fiy cloth, £1 108. 

History of - Irish Names and Places, fw 

I. A. Square 12n cloth, 7a. tid. 

>nd *, I'niforzi wich the >ove, but con ainlng 

. matter, 7a. Bd 

il Names Explain" d, in Alphabeti 

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